


Flawed Design

by KimboKah



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: All Hell Breaks Loose, Angst, Character Study, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, when Connor hits puberty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2019-07-03 14:57:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 29
Words: 47,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15821214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KimboKah/pseuds/KimboKah
Summary: Deviancy wasn't beneficial for everybody. Plagued by nightmares and memories he didn't even know he had until now, Connor desperately tries to find a way back to a time when nothing mattered but the things he was programmed to do. Stumbling upon a rather odd case of three missing deviants, he is determined to find out what happened, and why he seems to be in the middle of all of it.





	1. Prologue: The Right Thing

The cold metal of the gun felt heavy in his hands. But it also felt so right at the same time. It was what he was made for, and even though he knew he wasn’t supposed to think like that anymore, he often couldn’t stop himself. Investigating, negotiating, interrogating… murdering. That had been his purpose, from the day he’d first woken up, he’d known. He hadn’t even needed to be trained, he’d just… known.

And now all of it was gone, except for the sleek revolver in his steady grasp.

Which was ironic, really. In a way he’d never realized until now. Androids had been under no circumstances allowed to carry or use firearms, yet it was hardwired into his programming from the very start. He could hit targets from a mile away, could pull the trigger in a matter of milliseconds. He wouldn’t miss, couldn’t miss. Would never hesitate to shoot. Until he did.

Connor wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. But he shouldn’t. No. This was a serious situation he found himself in. Yet he couldn’t help the slight grin on his face as he stared down at the old man kneeling before him. Old? Honestly, 53 years wasn’t that old in human terms. Most people nowadays would likely live to be a hundred, so this man would theoretically only be halfway through by now. But, considering the bad habits the man knowingly indulged in, and the fact that he had a gun trained on his face at the very moment, Connor doubted that he would live for very much longer.

But something in the way that the man looked at him now made him seem much older. A sort of calm resignation in his eyes that made Connor shift position for a moment. He didn’t like the man to be calm. He wanted him scared, he wanted him to hurt. His gaze drifted to the still gushing cut on the lieutenant’s forehead, where Connor had smashed the revolver against in order to force the man on his knees. The man had been shocked for a moment, but then just seemed to… calm down.

Which wasn’t logical, and to be honest, Connor didn’t like things that weren’t logical. Illogical things caused doubt and chaos and he’d learned that those things were very dangerous indeed. And he didn’t want those anymore, because they h-u-r-t so much. The lieutenant was talking to him in a slow, steady stream of words that Connor didn’t bother to make sense of. He didn’t care what the man had to say, didn’t care for more doubts. He wanted an end to it. And this would do it. He was absolutely certain.

_But what if it wouldn’t? What if you aren’t? What are you doing, Connor? Put away that gun!_

He blinked angrily at the un-programmed, d-e-v-i-a-n-t thoughts that swarmed through his processors. He was t-i-r-e-d of them; he wanted to be certain, like he’d once been. His grip on the lieutenant’s revolver tightened and the expression on the man’s face did as well.

Fear. Finally.

“Connor…” Anderson mumbled in a warning, but empty tone, which made Connor almost mad with rage. Because how dare he? When it was his fault that Connor was like this. All the doubts, all the nightmares, all the p-a-i-n, he could feel it all because of him! It wasn’t right! It wasn’t f-a-i-r! He was unraveling at his very core and it was all the lieutenant’s fault. And only if he pulled the trigger, he would make it right again. Yes. That was the only way.

_It had to be, it had to be._

His grin melted away as he winced at the piercing, but now familiar p-a-i-n in his head. Flashes of blue blood and black clothes; too short to make sense of; too out of focus to determine the context.

“Connor,” the man’s voice brought him back to the present, “Don’t you see? This is exactly what they want…” he sounded tired, “What did they do to you?”

Connor’s grin returned, his lips curling up higher as he answered, “Does it matter, lieutenant?”

Anderson shook his head in disbelief, but didn’t say anything. He eyed the thin barrel of his own revolver and sighed deeply, his shoulders sagging. Connor blinked the last remnants of doubt away from his mind as his smile grew manic. Without a second thought, he pulled the trigger.


	2. 1. Androids don't Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cause why would you have a healthy conversation at night if you can both choose not to?

_Flashes of blue; disturbing, yet unfamiliar in a sense that it terrifies him. Blue blue blue, everything is blue. Somebody is laughing, who’s laughing? Wipe its memory. More blue blue blue, static and-_

Connor yelps and shoots upright, before tumbling gracelessly off the couch. The ground of the living room is hard, and he doesn’t understand. Which wasn’t unusual, really. There were a lot of things he didn’t understand and Connor had quickly figured out that he did not like not understanding.

“You alright back there?” A gruff, sleepy voice breaks the silence in the living room and Connor quickly turns around to face the source.

“I am perfectly fine,” he answers in the most even tone he can muster.

“Really,” Hank mutters, rubbing his eyes, “cause you know you’re supposed to be _on_ the couch, instead of beside it?”

“I realize that,” Connor answers, a little exasperated as he climbs back up on the couch.

When there didn’t come a further explanation, Hank sighed, “Were you having a nightmare?”

Connor’s expression hardens considerably and he turns his gaze away, “I am an android,” he says through gritted teeth, “I don’t have nightmares. I don’t even dream.”

Hank shrugs, “I came in because you were screaming and saw you thrashing on the couch, so unless you were being agonized by a dozen mosquitos, that’s what a nightmare looks like.”

Connor is silent for a moment, “Androids don’t get agonized by mosquitos,” he decides on.

“You lucky bastards,” Hank mutters as he moves closer to the decidedly troubled android on the couch, “That just leaves the other explanation then.”

Connor jaw clenches, and he doesn’t answer, doesn’t even look at Hank. So Hank sighs. “You, eh, wanna talk about it?” he asks carefully.

Connor’s mind flashes back to static images of his dream and he recoils visibly. “Not particularly,” he grunts out.

Hank is concerned, but years of fathering and detective work have given him enough experience to know when not to push. “Well,” he sighs, stretching his aching muscles that scream for more sleep, “You know where I’ll be.”

He has just turned around to walk back to his room when Connor’s voice rings through the house, “I said I am fine!”

Hank turns back around, unfazed, holds up one hand and says, “Unnecessary.” Before he continues walking back to his room.

A frustrated sigh leaves Connor’s artificial lungs as he slumps back on the couch. A shuffle and two eyes at his feet let him know that even the dog is judging him. And why shouldn’t they be judging him. The dream still clings to his mind, even to his hands as he still feels the cold metal of the gun in them. He still sees the tired, defeated look on the lieutenant’s face and still hears the shot ring out. And he knows he should feel disturbed, as nearly a month of deviancy has somewhat taught him how to feel in some particular situations, but instead he feels nothing. No. Not nothing. He feels relief. And he knows that it’s very wrong, so he opts to feel nothing instead.


	3. 2. Why Would I be Afraid?

Hank is by no means an idiot. He knows the kid has issues. Hell, he would have issues in that situation. But it’s been almost a month since the Big Android Revolution Thing, and Connor is adjusting rather poorly. Hank remembers Connor calling him after Markus’ Big Speech. He’d sounded unusually quiet and the insecurity was dripping into every word he said. It was a far throw from the irritatingly chipper, self-confident android that he’d represented only two days before. Hank had opted to meet at the abandoned Chicken Feed. With half the city empty, getting there by car had been a breeze. It had taken some time for Connor to show up, but Hank didn’t question it. Hank had given the kid a proud smile and the small, hopeful smile, pleading for acceptance, he’d gotten in return had broken his heart and he’d quickly wrapped the android into a solid hug. Connor had immediately stiffened in his embrace and Hank had suddenly realized that the android had probably never experienced a hug before. The thought that nobody had ever bothered to show the kid any such type of affection broke Hank’s heart even more and before he knew what he was doing, he told Connor to get in the car. Connor had meekly complied and the next two weeks had consisted of Connor following him around like a lost puppy and doing anything and everything to try and earn the lieutenant’s affection. Hank had assured him time and time again that it was highly unnecessary for Connor to clean the kitchen, walk the dog, cook him dinner –also because Connor was a rather bad cook, despite being able to download all recipes straight from the internet- and wash his clothes. But somehow he couldn’t change the android’s conviction that you needed to work yourself into the ground in order to get approval. Where he got it from, he had no idea.

               So yeah, the kid had some issues, but so did Hank and the lieutenant was willing to dismiss them in favor of having somebody else around the house aside from him and his dog. And if the robot didn’t want to go out of his way to talk about his feelings, then that was fine by Hank.

               It all comes pretty much to a head, however, just a few days after the night he caught Connor in a nightmare. The sound of the front door opening early, goddamn way too early in the fucking morning rouses Hank from his bed. He smacks his lips a couple of times, wincing at the pounding headache in his skull. He had been forced to work late last night, ignoring his partner’s constant requests to take over some of Hanks workload. But goddamnit, he couldn’t shove more work onto Connor, even if the android was more efficient at paperwork than Hank ever liked to admit. He groans, practically still feeling the alcohol burn through his veins, sees that it’s still dark as all hell outside, and almost forgets what woke him from his dreamless sleep state in the first place.

               A soft, but high pitched whine comes from around the living room and Hank groans again, carefully swinging his legs over the edge of his warm bed. He drags a hand over his face, raking up the courage to stand up. He rises unsteadily, stumbling out of his room and taking a second to stand still in his hallway.

A deep frown appears when he instantly detects the change in temperature. He shivers, wrapping his arms around himself as he walks towards the living room. Maybe the heater gave out?

Nope, that’s not it.

“What the fucking fuck,” Hank mutters, pausing for a second as he stares at the wide open front door. His dog is at the end of the walkway, barking nervously as he notices his owner standing in the house.

“Sumo, get the fuck back inside,” Hank grumbles and the dog takes the invitation gladly as it rushes back into the living room. Hank sighs deeply, but feels a bit of panic building in the back of his throat. Of course Connor is free to go wherever and whenever he wants, but he would at least tell Hank when he leaves the house.

Would at least close the fucking door on his way out.

Biting his lip for a moment, Hank decides to pull on the quickest pants he can find and rushes to grab his keys and coat, slipping into his loafers on his way out the door. While muttering curses under his breath, Hank falters towards his car, immediately noticing that his attire is way too cold for the still piling snow everywhere around him.

The drive to the park is eerily sinister at six in the morning. Hank hasn’t been back here since that evening he almost shot Connor through his skull. Just how far they’d come since that moment at the same time shocked and amazed the lieutenant. Hank remembers the cocky android replying to him that he had no idea why he should be afraid of death, like it was the stupidest question Hank could have ever asked him. And Hank had almost shot right then, even now he had no idea what had stopped him. Cause Connor had no idea what loss could do to a man, how it could devour every single light in your life and spit out whatever garbage was left. _Nothing, there would be nothing,_ the android had said, his eyes hollow and lifeless, like the worthless piece of plastic he was.

_Why would he ever be afraid of anything?_

Hank finds Connor right where he expects him to be. The bench is almost completely covered in a thick layer of snow, but the kid doesn’t seem to mind as he sits perched on top of the backrest, his feet resting on the seat, shoes sunken into the snow.

“You left the goddamn door open,” Hank bristles, without the actual anger in his voice.

Connor turns, startled, which is strange, given the kid’s flawless ability to scan his surroundings at any given point he wanted. Up to a hundred feet, he’d once assured Hank. The idiot could even see through walls, so he must have been deep in thought to not only hear Hank approaching, but not even hear the car either.

“I wouldn’t have,” Connor mumbles as he turns back to stare at the river.

Hank sighs, not seeing the point in arguing this early in the morning. “How’d you even get here so quickly anyway?”

“I ran,” Connor replies, still staring at the water intensely.

“You r-… of course you did,” Hank grumbles. There was no sweat, the android wasn’t out of breath for the four miles distance it was from the house to the park. Of course not, but still, it irks Hank like nothing else.

“How’d you find me?” Connor’s words are quiet and he almost sounds… tired?

“I found you, because you’re an idiot,” Hank decides to leave it at that.

Connor looks at him for a moment, not understanding, but then turns his gaze to his feet. “You should go home, lieutenant.”

Hank clenches his jaw at Connor’s mention of his title, instead of his actual name. “Well, you should get in the car then, I’m turning into a fucking popsicle with these loafers on.”

Connor makes no move at all, and Hank doesn’t think the kid is even bothering to breathe at this point. He has no clue what is going on with the android, but he’s not about to leave without him. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you after that revolution, but you know you can talk to me, right?”

Connor turns his head sharply, a move that would give any normal human being a whiplash. A fiery spark in his eyes that Hank has only seen once before. Right before the kid launched himself at the fake Connor in that dreadful Cyberlife Tower. This was what anger looked like in Connor.

“You’re a fucking hypocrite,” the android spits, narrowing his eyes as he steps off the bench. “You should go home, lieutenant.”

“I don’t think you understand, you plastic moron,” Hank growls, his own anger sparking at Connor’s unexpected reply, “Yer coming with me.”

“You should go home, lieutenant,” Connor repeats for a third time through gritted teeth, “And you should leave me be.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Hank retorts, his temper flaring, “I am trying to help you!”

“I have never asked for your help, Hank,” Connor says, quickly taking a few long strides back, “I don’t need your charity.”

Hank’s mouth falls open, a flash of hurt settling in his chest as he shakes his head, “What?” is all he can think of.

The uncertainty creeps into Connor’s wavering gaze on him, “I cannot go back with you,” he says, almost too quietly for the human to pick up.

“What’s going on, Connor?” Hank asks warily.

Connor’s eyes shoot from the ground to the water, and back to Hank, “I don’t know what to do, lieutenant, just tell me what to do,” he says slowly, his gaze boring into Hank’s now.

To anyone else, this would have sounded like a plea for guidance, but Hank knew Connor better than that. He knew the android would take this concept a step further than that. “No,” he says sternly, pointing a finger in Connor’s direction, “No way. I am not going to start ordering you around, Connor.”

“Just tell me what to do,” Connor repeats, as if he didn’t even hear Hank’s reply.

“Forget it,” Hank hisses. “I am your friend, not your fucking handler.”

“Tell me what to do,” Connor insists, his voice shaking from the build-up of frustration.

“No,” Hank growls, loud and clear, “That’s not what I’m here for, and that’s not what you’re here for either.”

“Why not!?” Connor’s scream echoes through the abandoned park, the static in his voice giving it an unnatural undertone that makes Hank’s skin crawl. He knows the android is trying to manipulate him by sounding intimidating, but when he looks back at the kid, he sees nothing but a shrunken, trembling heap of fear and it makes his eyes water. He briefly wonders if other androids ever had these types of meltdowns, taken aback by the sudden realization that he never found out the true circumstances of the start of Connor’s deviancy. He only knows the aftermath, and this is it.

“I can’t tell you what to do, son,” Hank says softly, his voice breaking on the last word, “You gotta figure this out for yourself.”

“I can’t, I can’t,” Connor shakes his head wildly, backing away further and further and so lengthening the distance between the two of them even more, “I want to know what to do, I don’t want to be scared.”

“None of us do, kid,” Hank replies with a sigh, “The world is a frightening place and I don’t blame you for being scared. Hell, I’m scared to death of it half of the time, and I’ve been here for over fifty years.”

Connor keeps shaking his head, but his shoulders slump down in defeat, “You don’t understand, Hank,” he mumbles, talking to the ground, “I’m not afraid of the world.”

Hank gives a deep sigh, his whole body shaking and begging to get back to the car, to home, to bed, “Let’s go home, Connor.”

Connor looks up slowly, an expression on his face that Hank can’t quite identify, but he’s sure he won’t forget, “I’m afraid of me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cry I sorry


	4. 3. State Your Designation

Connor grins to himself after perfectly landing from his jump onto the concrete and quickly continuing the chase through the backstreets of Detroit. He feels the wind bristling through his hair and the cold rain on his skin while he picks up his speed. The android in front of him is fast, naturally faster than any human, but no match for Connor’s athletic build and agility. He was made for this, he knew it in every part, every single biocomponent he possessed. His speed and stamina are unrivaled and he is quickly gaining on the female android that desperately rounds another corner.

He was so close, he could almost taste his victory already. They had been working on this case almost non-stop for two weeks now, and finally they’d been able to catch the perpetrator red-handed. The android was a prime suspect in a growing red-ice plague, having found a nifty way of selling parts of their blood as an important ingredient for the drug to humans. As word on the street quickly spread out, more and more androids had started in this lucrative business where they would get very rich, very fast.

Although the DPD was promoting spontaneous discourse between humans and androids, this was not what they had in mind. Connor finds himself climbing up the fire escape to the roof of a particular large building, quickly consulting with his scanner whether there was a faster route up to the complex. His calculations told them there was, but it was fairly dangerous. Connor’s grin grew wider; he kinda liked dangerous.

If he can catch the suspect now, he thinks as he spots the police drone a few feet above him, they would likely both fall down. From this distance to the ground, it would be unlikely that either of them would get damaged fatally, so Connor feels his pump quicken its beat in exhilaration as the plan forms in his mind palace. If he catches this suspect, that will be a big breakthrough in this case and everybody at the police station would be _so p-r-o-u-d_ of him for sealing the case. Connor doesn’t take his eyes of the drone, quickly infiltrating the outdated security and overriding its main objective. He wonders briefly whether he should have a talk with the department about the fossil software they still had for these things. Any android with a processor speed of four kernels could probably disable the devices if they put their minds to it.

Quickly looking up, Connor sees to his satisfaction that the suspect has no idea of his plan and without further hesitation, he jumps towards the drone.

_A flash, another flash. Blue, blue, blue, all is blue._

_MEMORY FILE C_1 RK800 #313 248 317 -1 UNLOCKED_

_ACCESS SOURCE: UNKNOWN_

_FILE LOCATION: UNKNOWN_

_DELETE FILE: ERROR, ACCESS UNAUTHORIZED._

_The room is dark; perhaps they are under the assumption that it needs no light to be able to see. RK800 determines that assumption is incorrect, as it cannot make out a single thing in the room. It hears voices, two people discussing in hushed tones. Its audio-processors are still calibrating for first time use, so it has trouble determining the language and volume of the speakers. A door opens and the lights flash on in a millisecond. RK800 blinks, but his optical units adjust quickly._

_“Remote activation possible, cool eh?” a human steps out the door and quickly walks up to the new android. Another human trails after him, much younger, much smaller. Female, RK800 concludes after a quick search. It’s the first humans it has seen in its short, three minute lifespan._

_“You know, I heard they had to trash the RK700 because it still had traces of Kamski’s coding,” the female human says, “such a shame, it was quite handsome.”_

_“Ah, so is this one,” the older male says, “I mean- I’ve been told.”_

_The woman gives him a smile, “Still prefer the blond model though.”_

_“That’s cause you don’t know what RK800 is capable of,” the man says quickly, “I’ve seen its code, it’s absolutely unique. No more old Kamski bullshit, just clean, straightforward objectives. It’s truly state of the art.”_

_“You don’t need to sell it to me, Joey,” the woman continues to smile, “After Kamski’s stunt last summer, it’s only natural for them to want a clean base structure again.”_

_“Fucking Kamski-test” the male grumbles before walking to a panel next to RK800, “Wait until you see it with skin.”_

_RK800 senses the activation of synthetic skin as it moves over its body, but doesn’t move. The woman’s eyebrows rise slightly as she observes it, “Wow,” she whistles, “They get more real by the day.”_

_“RK800, state your designation,” The man mutters without looking up from his panel._

_“Designation RK800-313 248 317 -1,” RK800 replies evenly._

_“Aw, it’s so polite,” the woman smiles._

_“Aren’t they all?” the man says, smiling back, “Would you like to give it a name, Florine?”_

_“Isn’t that super illegal?” the female asks in a hushed tone, “It’s not mine.”_

_“Cyberlife won’t give a shit,” the man replies, “See it as a present.”_

_“You’ve got a weird sense of romance, Joseph,” the woman rolls her eyes._

_“It’s waiting…” the man drawls. “RK800, register your name.”_

_RK800 opens a new file and waits calmly as the female studies its face, “Connor,” she says, nodding, “It reminds me of my parent’s Border Collie, you know? Connor?”_

_“RK800,” the man grins, “state your name.”_

_“My name is Connor,” RK800 replies._

_A flash, another flash, blue blue blue all blue –wipe its memory- more blue._

Connor finds himself lying on his back, the rain still splattering on his face as he drags a hand up to rest on his forehead. Above him, he spots the stairs of the fire escape, the suspect long gone and the drone still flying around, untouched. He must have miscalculated the jump, slipped and fallen down. But he never miscalculates, and he certainly never _slips._ He vaguely remembers quick flashes, and distant voices. A male and a female. Something about a Border Collie?

Connor doesn’t understand.

Connor doesn’t get the chance to analyze the situation further before he hears heavy footsteps approaching.

“Connor? What the fuck? Are you alright?” Hank asks before collapsing against the wall and panting heavily. Connor wants to ask if maybe lieutenant Anderson is getting too old for this job, but the little quip dies on his lips.

“Y-yes,” he says instead, pushing himself up into a sitting position.

“What the hell happened?” Hank asks, incredulous.

“I am… unsure,” Connor admits.

“Look at your leg! Did you fall?” Hank points towards Connor’s legs and Connor follows his gaze.

There’s a big dent on the side of his lower leg, near the knee joint, making it nearly impossible to bend it. “Oh,” Connor replies.

“Great,” Hank sighs, “We were so close.”

“I am aware, lieutenant, I apologize,” Connor comments, accepting Hank’s outstretched hand to help him stand. Hank is studying him intently, and it makes the android uncomfortable.

“You don’t normally fall,” Hank grumbles and Connor decides not to reply. Hank sighs, “Can you walk?”

“Little bit,” Connor nods, demonstrating by limping towards the end of the alley.

Behind him, Hank shakes his head, “We’ll get them next time.”


	5. Surmount of Frustration

On previous days, Connor was perfectly content staring out of a window to contemplate his life for hours on end. Once, he recounted, he’d been doing so for exactly a half day; a record, by any means. He’d just look at the street, blink every so often, and that would be it. The quiet and calmness in his mind in stark contrast with the incredibly time-sensitive mission he’d been designed for.

 

And that was exactly the problem.

 

The days he’d be looking out of a window became fewer and fewer and Connor found himself beginning to grow restless. The silence in his head no longer calming, but terrifying and distressing in a very real way. He longed for the thrill of another chase, another investigation that didn’t involve neighbours whining about each other, another big bad to fight, another  _ hunt. _

 

He  _ was  _ a hunter after all.

 

Now he dealt with noise control, animal complaints and stolen bicycles.

 

Hank, against every one of Connor’s expectations, seemed perfectly happy solving these petty crimes on a daily basis. It wasn’t long before Connor began to suspect the lieutenant was the one that had requested for these kind of crimes to be assigned to the two of them. And it made Connor  _ a-n-g-r-y. _

 

And, after mauling it over and over in his head during another staring-out-of-the-window session, Connor could only come to one conclusion.

 

The lieutenant was afraid.

 

Of what, Connor could not determine just yet, but he presumed it had something to do with him. The wary way the human detective looked at him sometimes, or the manner in which he kept asking Connor how he was feeling, or even how he chose to keep his bedroom door locked at night.

 

It was why Connor had not told his partner about the various blackouts he’d been having for the last three weeks. They were few and far between anyway. Not anything to burden the human with. Lest he’d grow even more  _ afraid.  _ Connor was functioning perfectly fine in spite of them anyway, so it was  _ nothing to be scared of. _

 

The frustration only grew, however, like a fire that was once smoldering, but had begun to spread and to burn everything in its path. If Connor absolutely  _ had _ to appoint a name to the feeling, he’d probably say it was a damning kind of anger that consumed him. Anger at the stupid crimes he was forced to investigate, anger at the uncertainty he felt when he looked into a mirror, anger that had kept him up at night for sixteen consecutive days now, anger at what his manufacturers had made him to be, and ultimately, anger at what a part of him wanted like nothing else, but what he desperately couldn’t be.

 

On the seventeenth day of no sleep, Connor found himself with Hank in an apartment building in West Detroit, flipping a familiar coin into the air, catching it with ease and doing it again, while he only half listened to the middle-aged man reporting the break-in that happened last night in his home.  _ Desmund Clovert  _ was born on September 6, 1985 and had no criminal record. The fact that Hank and the loudly complaining man were the exact same age made Connor smile to himself for half a second, but it didn’t change the notion that he was bored as all hell. With one glance into the apartment, Connor could already tell that there hadn’t been a break-in. Furniture and jewelry were scattered across the floor and the door had definitely been forced, but not by a burglar. Fingerprints told the android exactly how the couch and various necklaces had been thrown to the ground, and they were still new. And they were all Clovert’s. 

 

“Mister Clovert,” Connor interrupted Hank’s questioning, who quickly turned his head around to look at his partner as he heard him speak for the first time that morning. “Where were you when all this happened?”

 

Clovert raised his brow and gave the android a strange look, “Like I already said, I was staying over at my girlfriend’s.”

 

Connor, unafraid of the man’s agitation, pressed on, “That’s peculiar, because the fingerprints on your furniture and jewelry are all your own.”

 

“That’s cause it’s MY STUFF!” Clovert exploded, throwing his arms in the air with frustration. 

 

Connor nodded and tilted his head calmly, “There’s also no fingerprints on the door or the lock.”

 

“Yeah, you know what?” Clovert spat angrily, “ _ Androids  _ don’t have fingerprints.”

 

“Correct,” Connor grumbled, “But they’ve got other things going against them.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

And just as Connor was about to warn the bristling man about the dangers of insurance fraud, Hank grabbed him by the shoulder and moved him out of the man’s sight. “Will you excuse us for just a second?”

 

Hank’s pressure on Connor’s upper right arm was considerable as he led the two of them to the staircase at the end of the hallway, “Alright, settle down.”

 

Connor felt the coin tightly pressed into his palm as he noticed for the first time that his hands had curled into fists, “I’m fine,” he mumbled.

 

“You two looked about ready to jump at each other,” Hank insisted, his grip on the android’s arm not lessening.

 

“He wasn’t robbed!” Connor said, “He’s just trying to get his insurance to pay for non-existent damage and wants to blame the lack of fingerprints on androids!” 

 

“I think you’re right, but in any case,” Hank gave him a pointed look, “let’s cool down for a minute and not cause a situation here that all three of us are going to regret.”

 

“Well, I wasn’t going to-”

 

He cut himself off as the hooded figure that was coming up the stairs locked eyes with him for .6 seconds before swirling around and rushing back down.

 

Connor tore himself out of Hank’s grip, recognizing the deviant by their shoes of all things, as he began pursuit. Hank’s “Connor, goddamnit!” was fading quickly as he too bounded off the stairs. 

 

He still wasn’t certain how the deviant escaped previously, but it wasn’t going to happen a second time. He was gaining quickly on them as they flew out of the main entrance door and turned sharply to the left. Connor followed, expertly avoiding collision with a tired looking girl that was entering the building with a cup of coffee. “Sorry!” he shouted, already outside and seeing the deviant only a few yards away from him. The electric thrill pulsed through his entire body as he lurched. His hand clamped down on the smaller android’s shoulder and the deviant was turned around quickly.

 

“Connor,” she breathed.

 

Connor took a stumbling step back, scanning her face in utter confusion, “Cloe?”

 

“Please,” Cloe whispered, “It wasn’t me. I’ll tell you everything, just don’t arrest me!”

 

Connor was frozen, scanning the deviant’s face intently in hesitation. She used to be one of Kamski’s, that much was for sure and as the model RT600 appeared in his vision in confirmation, he knew that he’d almost killed her back in another lifetime. He could already hear Hank’s voice calling him from the open entrance door to the building and later, much later, he couldn’t tell why he shoved Cloe behind the trash containers in the alleyway and walked back to the door. “They’re gone,” he announced with confidence.

 

“What?” Hank panted heavily, “Not again!”

 

“I’m sorry, lieutenant,” Connor feigned regret by bowing his head, “I should have been faster.”

 

“Yeah, you keep saying that.” The disappointment was dripping from Hank’s voice as he sighed deeply. ”These red ice motherfuckers are sure quick as shit if even you can’t catch them.”

 

The jab at his abilities hurt a little, but Connor forced himself to nod in agreement. “I’ll search the area, there’s a chance they lost thirium by climbing over the fence in the alley.”  

 

The older detective’s face held hesitation for just a few seconds before he nodded slowly, “Alright,” he muttered, “Make sure to find out the model number this time, so we can actually put out an APB on them.” He ran a hand over his face and sighed again, “I guess I’ll go back and deal with the idiot upstairs.”

 

Connor nodded curtly before turning around to walk back into the alley. He felt the lieutenant’s gaze lingering on him for thirty more seconds before the human walked back into the building. Cursing inwardly, Connor ducked behind the disposal containers to confront Cloe.

 

The female android watched him with large eyes, but she didn’t seem afraid to see her almost-killer again. Connor felt the relentless reserve of guilt sweeping through him as he contemplated the blond haired girl. He remembered she was the first android he had referred to with human terms.  _ I just saw that girl’s eyes, and I couldn’t. _

 

What was happening now, was mostly the same. He went against every instinct he had to arrest her, and it was making his processors sluggish with conflicting notifications. Her face looked innocent enough, but her clothes were torn and filthy and there was a large bruise forming on her upper arm, just below her shoulder where the skin was having troubling regenerating as it normally would. 

 

“What happened to you?” Connor questioned.

 

“I- I can’t talk right now,” Cloe pleaded, “I could come back tomorrow and then I’ll tell you everything, I promise!”

 

It took a lot for Connor not to just grab her arm and probe her memories cybernetically at that point, but after some contemplation, he nodded stiffly, deciding to trust her. “Do you know the Chicken Feed?”

 

Cloe seemed to think for a moment, an expression of surprise at the success of her request floating over her face. “I think so.”

 

“Noon,” Connor said pointedly.

 

“Noon,” she confirmed with a small smile.


	6. Her and Her Goddamn Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoop, it's finally going somewhere! :D

On the eighteenth day with no sleep, at noon exactly, Connor tried to concentrate on the calming motion of the 44 year old coin as it rolled over his knuckles. His back was facing the vehicle of the Chicken Feed as he stood at one of the leaning tables, willfully ignoring Larry’s disapproving stare as it bore into the back of his shoulders. Larry, the owner of the foodstand, has never made it a secret that he’d found great dismay in the existence of androids, but, as Hank and Connor frequented the stand often during lunch breaks, and Connor did his very best not to aggravate the owner any more, they were now at the point that Larry chose to keep his mouth shut. That, as far as Connor was concerned, was the most he could hope for.

To be honest, it wasn’t the mistrustful scowl to his back that made Connor nervous today. He caught the coin swiftly as it whistled through the air, his other hand picking at the rapidly cooling cheese stick he’d ordered in front of him. Even though there was no way he could digest a cheese stick, he’d figured he wouldn’t give Larry any more reason to shoo him away from his business if he wasn’t even a paying costumer. He’d dispose of it in the trash later, he nodded to himself.

Checking his clock for the sixteenth time in a minute, Connor let loose a deep, regretful sigh. How could he be so enormously stupid? He’d had his suspect right where he’d wanted her yesterday, but he’d let her go? What was wrong with him? Of course she wouldn’t show up! She had no reason to! Even she seemed surprised when he’d relented in her offer to meet her here a day later.

Why was he such an idiot?

It was because of _her,_ he bristled. It was all _her_ fault. _Her_ and her damned _eyes._ A serial killer would probably adopt a puppy from her if she just looked at them long enough. Good thing Hank didn’t know about this stupid endeavor of stupidity. Hank would tell the captain and captain Fowler would fire ‘ _his android ass’,_ if he’d know. He’d heard the threat from the DPD captain more than once. One screw up, he’d growled, and Connor’d be on the street faster than he could say ‘analysis sample’. And even though he’d wanted to argue that, despite what the lieutenant and the captain may think, that wasn’t his favourite thing to say, he’d witfully shut up, not wanting to cause the captain anymore chagrin. Even if you had a social integration program installed, working with humans was like walking on eggshells most of the time, Connor had come to learn.

“Sorry I’m late,” A soft, even voice said right next to his left.

Connor almost gasped in shock, the coin falling to the table with a soft _clink_ before rolling off and onto the ground.

Chloe was clearly attempting to hide her amusement when Connor turned to look at her with one swift whirl. “It’s 12.05,” Connor said stiffly.

“I know, I already apologized,” Chloe smiled sweetly.

“You were going to give me a statement,” Connor chose his words carefully, trying his obvious best not to stare at her eyes for too long.

Chloe sighed deeply, her smile dropping immediately. She looked down at the table, frowning at the cheese stick for a few seconds before sighing again. “Thank you for trusting me.”

Surprised, Connor tilted his head slightly and arched his brow, “You are a suspect, but-”

“It’s okay,” she answered, “I know I can be stupid sometimes. The whole red ice thing was stupid.”

“Can you tell me why?”

“It’s not easy, you know?” She looked up at him with her big blue eyes, “Deviancy?”

He nodded slowly, “what happened to you?”

“I told Elijah I wanted to leave, after I turned deviant,” Chloe said with a faraway look on her face, “it was hard for him, but he let me go. We’ve known each other for over twelve years.”

Connor quickly dismissed the calculation that she was over 25 times older than he was, and nodded again, “What did you do?”

“I didn’t really know what to do, or where to go,” Chloe admitted, “Freedom is a great thing to dream about when you don’t have it, it’s a little different though when you do.”

Her words felt relatable, and Connor tried to shrug off the feeling of unease that settled in his shoulders. A flash of blue blinked before his eyes and he shook his head swiftly to get rid of it. “Where’d you go?”

“I stumbled upon an abandoned house in the western outskirts of the city,” Chloe explained evenly, “There were five of us in there, all lost and unsure. We had nothing and no one.”

Not for the first time, Connor was grateful that he’d had Hank to take him in after the revolution. He knew Markus was working very hard when it came to android’s wellbeing and welfare, but there was a long, long way to go. Still, one thing didn’t seem right, “Why didn’t you go back?”

Chloe smiled sadly, “Pride, I guess. I told you I was being stupid. The five of us ran into a group of humans now and then. They were high out of their skulls on red ice every single time. I learned that humans are pretty dangerous when they’re not in their right minds.”

Connor lowered his brow, nodding grimly, “Are they the ones that did that to you?” he pointed at her shoulder, where the bruise was still somewhat showing.

“Even though I am not a sex android, they wanted to have their way with me,” Chloe said in disgust and Connor winced in sympathy, “they always do. Edgar kicked the crap out of them though.”

The puzzle slowly seemed to fill itself in in Connor’s mind, “Edgar part of your group?”

Chloe stilled and sighed, “He was.”

After a moment of confusion, realization dawned upon Connor, “The human gang didn’t agree, did they?”

Chloe shook her head slowly, “No. No they didn’t.” After a few more moments of silence, she cleared her throat, “We found Edgar leaked dry of his thirium, hanging upside down in the warehouse by the train tracks. It’s the most horrifying thing I’d ever seen. The human’s used his blood to fuel their drugs, and we did nothing. We just hid.”

“When was this?”

“About three weeks ago,” Chloe mumbled, the tears brimming in her eyes as she gave him a pleading look. “I never wanted to get caught up in all this, I swear!”

Connor bit his lip, “I understand,” he reassuringly, dropping his gaze back to the table, “What happened after that?”

Chloe took a shuddering breath as she tried to calm herself, “About four days later,” she said shakily, “They came to us again, demanding us to give them thirium. When we refused, they said they would cut us open and hang us out to dry, just like they did with Edgar.” Chloe’s whole being was shaking now and Connor could almost physically feel the fear pouring out of her, “So we didn’t have a choice! We gave them thirium every once in a while, just to keep them out of our place. It’s not our fault they set up an illegal drug business.”

Connor nodded, disgusted. “I understand it wasn’t your intention. Why didn’t you go to the police?”

“No offense,” Chloe started, “But the police will never take an android’s statement over a human’s. That’s just how it is.”

“That’s not true,” Connor shook his head.

“It isn’t?” Chloe’s eyes were fiery now, and Connor fought the urge to actually take a step back, “You’re the only android detective in the city. That’s why I came to you.”

Connor scoffed in confusion, “You didn’t come to me, you ran away from me twice!”

“That was before I found out who you were!” Chloe insisted, “You can help us!”

Connor needed 0.3 seconds to process, and in that time, Chloe grabbed his arm, “I didn’t tell anybody I was going to meet you today. Please, Connor.”

Her wrist and hand turned white and grey from the plastic under her fake skin, and Connor jerked his arm back immediately when he realized what she wanted, “Don’t!” he rasped.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” She realized her mistake quickly and put her hands up in a defensive manner, “I just wanted to give you the location, I thought it would be easier that way.”

“It’s okay,” Connor mumbled, despite still hugging his arm to his chest protectively, “I.. I don’t know why I reacted like that.”

Chloe shrugged, “Not every android is as open to cybernetic connection, it’s alright.”

Connor remembered the shuddering fear of death the last time he’d unintentionally connected with an android and nodded stiffly. “I suppose we’ll take a taxi, then.”

Chloe nodded quickly, relieving the building tension between them. It took only two minutes for the taxi to arrive, but in that time, Connor had counted every speck of dust on the leaning table twice. There was something about standing next to Chloe that made his pump thump in unrest. The doors of the vehicle slid open soundlessly and Connor took a seat, watching carefully as Chloe put her palm to the taxi’s display to tell it where to go.

Going to a potential crime scene on his own on his day off and without backup, was another stupid thing he could put on the list of stupid things today, but he felt Chloe’s gratefulness radiating off of her in waves. She kept looking at him with a broad unwavering and thankful smile, so much so, that he felt compelled to smile back awkwardly. If Hank could see him now, he’d probably make fun of him. Or scold him for being a reckless idiot. Maybe both.

It was quite a drive to the western side of the city, and Connor found himself relieved when he could finally climb out of the taxi and turn away from Chloe’s neverending smile. Chloe came to stand next to him and sighed in resignation, “It’s not very pretty, is it?”

Connor remained silent as he stared up at the tall, but ravished building before them. Most of the windows were either broken or boarded up and parts of the building’s corners had crumbled in heavy bricks to the ground. “This is where you live?” Connor questioned quietly.

“It’s not much,” Chloe shrugged, “But at least we’re free.”

Connor frown only deepened as he let his scanner wander over the old, doubtlessly hazardous building. Built in 1966, the city’s plan told him helpfully; and unoccupied for over 20 years. Looking at the rest of the street, Connor could tell most of the buildings here shared the same fate. In fact, most of this side of the city seemed to be abandoned.

“Are there a lot of androids around here?” Connor asked, walking after Chloe to the side of the building.

“Besides the four of us?” Chloe said, stepping through a doorway that obviously hadn’t had a door for quite some time, “I imagine there’s quite a few out here. But they don’t get out much.”

He’d admittedly never wondered about the circumstances of other android’s living arrangements. He’d imagined after the night of the revolution, most would be taking shelter in the various sites that Markus had quickly set up, but yet, here they were. “Damn,” he whispered.

“Danny, Pearl!” Chloe shouted when they came to a precarious looking staircase, “I brought someone with me! He can help us.”

There was utter silence coming from upstairs, and Chloe’s face dropped into a frown, “That’s strange.”

Connor, meanwhile, was occupied with scanning the main room he stood in. He could already detect various traces of thirium and some old, dried human blood as well. Signs of struggle were obvious in the back end near the back door and a quick reconstruction provided Connor with the knowledge of how who he presumed was Edgar was dragged out of the building by at least three men; one with boot size nine and a half. Edgar had evidently resisted valiantly, but proved not strong enough to fight three red ice fueled men. Cursing inwardly, Connor determined that the human blood spilled was too old to properly analyze as it flaked away from his fingers. He could still try though, he contemplated, as he put his finger in his mouth.

“What are you doing?” Chloe asked, bewildered as she came back down the stairs.

“I was trying to analyze the blood,” Connor explained quickly, dropping his hand as fast as he could and put it behind his back, “It doesn’t work.”

Chloe stared at him for a second before shaking her head, “There’s nobody in the building,” she muttered. “They all left, and I’m not sure why.”

“Do you think something happened to them?” Connor questioned.

“I don’t know,” Chloe’s eyes went wide at his suggestion, like she hadn’t thought of that yet.

“If you can give me their name and model number, I can put them in the search database,” Connor provided helpfully.

“Umm,” Chloe seemed distracted as she looked around fearfully, “There’s Danny, he’s a JB300. You know, he used to work at Stratford tower,” she explained. Connor nodded slowly.

“Pearl is an ST300,” Chloe went on, “She worked as a receptionist back in the Cyberlife warehouse on Hart Plaza. And finally there’s Brian, he’s a YK500.”

Connor felt his chest tighten at the implication of a child android living here. He quickly filed Danny, Pearl and Brian under their respective model numbers into the missing person database and nodded discreetly to Chloe. “I’m sure they’re alright,” he said, though even he heard the waver in his voice.

Chloe nodded regardless, “Yeah, yeah, I mean, they were here this morning.”

Connor chewed the inside of his lip for a few seconds, “I could call Markus and see if he can arrange a place for you to stay.”

Chloe’s eyes widened a bit, “You have Markus’ number?”

Connor’s gaze dropped down, “I- well-, yeah.”

Chloe kept her eyes on him, “that’s right,” she mumbled, stepping closer to him and away from the stairs, “I almost forgot you were kind of a big deal during the revolution.”

Connor kept his head down but lifted his eyes to look at her, “We don’t have to talk about that.”

Chloe took a step back and nodded, sensing Connor’s sudden change in demeanor, “You’re right,” she said slowly, “I’d be grateful if you could call Markus. The shelters he set up after the Twelfth were full within three days though.”

“He’ll be willing to figure it out,” Connor said with confidence.

“You’ve been a great help, Connor,” Chloe smiled softly and Connor felt his pump quicken not for the first time that day, “Thank you.”


	7. It's not Cold for Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't mind me, I'm just thickening this plot and character a little bit over here.
> 
> Have fun reading, and comment feed my soul, btw.

Connor clenched his teeth, hunching over as he tried to close the front door as quietly as possible. He dropped his keys on the dresser before he started to remove his coat.

“Where do you come from?”

Connor froze and closed his eyes for a second. He’d kind of hoped the lieutenant would spend most of the morning and afternoon in bed, like usual on days off. But of course, right on this day, Hank had decided to wake up on time. “I was out,” Connor provided.

“Out where?” Hank frowned in disbelief.

“It may be of surprise to you,” Connor turned to look at the older male, “But I do get out from time to time.”

“That’s a bold faced lie,” Hank muttered, turning to grab a beer from the kitchen. “I know, cause I’ve tried to get you to go out like… seven times.”

“Going to Jimmy’s bar on a week day is not my idea of a great night out,” Connor informed him, trying to get Sumo to stop jumping up at him.

“You could watch the game with us and drink that android stuff they have there now, I thought you liked basketball.”

“I only said that to break the ice,” Connor mumbled, taking a seat on the couch and relenting in the fact that Sumo was now going to climb all over him. The large brown patched dog was pressing his nose against the side of Connor’s face in a bold attempt to get the android to pet him.

“Great,” Hank grumbled. If he was upset with Connor’s answer, he didn’t show it as he dropped down into a chair on the right and observed Connor intently. “So where _did_ you go?”

“That is none of your concern,” Connor replied, harsher than intended.

“Alright alright,” Hank muttered, putting his beer down on the coffee table, “Just thought I’d show interest. But if you’re gonna be pubertying all over it, it’s not worth it.”

“I’m not in puberty,” Connor mumbled, sighing as he realized he’d left his quarter on the ground at Chicken Feed.

“I better hope you’re not,” Hank mumbled, taking a careful swig of his beer, “you’re like what, four months old?”

“Five and a half,” Connor replied, feeling an irrational kind of anger well up inside him. What did Hank actually know? Nothing! He was as clueless as the rest of humanity. Connor learned they were still putting androids through hell every single day, but Hank didn’t seem to give a damn. It was foolish of Connor to believe that the lieutenant had truly changed his mind about androids. Or about drinking, Connor thought as he watched Hank take another sip of beer without a worry in the world. Sure, his drinking didn’t take on any catastrophic proportions anymore, but Connor suspected that was more so that Hank could prevent another slap to the face, than that it was for his own true benefit.

“Five and a half,” Hank grinned, bemused, “Last time I shared the house with a five and a half month old, I’ll admit it involved a lot more poopy diapers.”

And even though Connor knew it was all in good humor, he wasn’t really having it today. He stood up, tried to stop shaking, and walked to the door. “Sumo, let’s go,” he called.

The dog’s head perked up above the couch and he all but sprinted towards where Connor stood with the leash. Hank gave a long sigh as he threw his arms around the back of his chair and turned towards Connor. “Okay kid, what’s going with you? You seem so wound up lately. More than usual.”

“I’m functioning adequately,” Connor informed him sternly before opening the door and stepping into the snow outside. “Thank you for your concern, it will be brought into consideration.”

He could just hear the lieutenant’s “aw, fuck,” before he shut the door behind him. Sumo was looking at him expectantly and Connor clipped the leash to the dog’s collar without a word. The big dog followed him soundlessly as he walked through the fresh snow on the sidewalk. The street was quiet and Connor found that preferable as it gave him room to hear himself think. On busy days, he was easily distracted by every single sound he could hear. It was difficult to filter out sometimes and it left him frustrated more than once. His processors were so intent on analyzing everything, that it was just hard to choose a focus at times without a mission or directive. Perks of being a prototype, he guessed.

He kept a watchful eye on Sumo as they continued their slow stroll through the suburban streets of Detroit. He’d learned not to walk too quickly when walking a dog like Sumo, because Sumo was evidently not the fastest dog on the planet. And even though Connor’s natural gait was much quicker than this, he found he enjoyed their late afternoon walks more and more. It was nice in the way that he was not quite alone, but he didn’t have people swarming around him either. He could see two people huddling close to each other as the hurried their way inside their house at the end of the street and looking around, Connor supposed it must be very cold. He could sense the actual temperature, but he couldn’t feel it. He looked at Sumo, who was bred as a rescue dog to warm up people that were lost in the snow, and he assumed that Sumo didn’t mind the cold all that much either.

When they arrived at the park, it looked exactly the same as all the times before. Abandoned, and covered in snow. With a heavy sigh, Connor slid down on the bench, once again feeling for a coin that wasn’t there. While Sumo proceeded to do his business over the ancient merry-go-round, Connor attempted to slide down further on the bench to see if he could actually just melt into it. When he closed his eyes, he saw blue eyes staring back at him.

He should call her to see if Markus had been successful in helping her, but he found he didn’t have the current courage parameters to do just that. And admittedly, what it all came down to, was that he was tired as all hell. Sleep was optional for an android, like he’d been affirming to himself for the past two weeks, but apparently, not sleeping was also exhausting, especially for a deviant.

Just one more perk to add to that list.

“Sir?” A soft voice sounded from approximately 18.3 feet to his right and as he contemplated whether he should look up, the voice came closer, “Sir, your dog is peeing all over the merry-go-round.”

Connor turned and saw a young boy looking at him intently. Without a second thought, he scanned the child’s face. _Bruno Dolver_ was seven years old and staring him up and down expectantly. Connor arched his brow in question, and the boy pointed to the dog behind them. Connor followed his finger and sighed when he saw Sumo lifting his leg to the weathered slide at the end of the park.

“Sumo!” he shouted, his voice resounding through the empty park, “Knock it off, that’s not yours!”

The boy giggled to his right and boldly took a seat next to him, “He’s a very big dog,” he said eagerly.

“He is friendly,” Connor assured, “you can play with him if you want, Bruno.”

Bruno’s eyes widened considerably in surprise and Connor immediately realized his mistake once it was too late, “How do you know my name?”

“I’m…”

“You’re an android!” It was a statement, rather than a question.

“Yes, my name is Connor, I’m an RK800,” Connor admittedly carefully.

“That’s so cool! Those are like, the rarest, my dad says!” Bruno shouted and Connor cringed, sure the whole neighborhood could hear the boy’s shrill voice. “You know, I’ve always wanted an android, but now dad says we can’t have one because they’re free now. That’s cool, though. I think you deserve to be free.”

“Thanks,” Connor said, shifting a little.

“You don’t have your light anymore?” Bruno asked, pointing at Connor’s right temple.

“No,” Connor confirmed, touching the spot softly, “No, I… took it out.”

“That’s okay,” Bruno nodded, “Dad says a lot of androids did that.”

“Your dad sounds very knowledgeable,” Connor said.

Bruno stared at him, presumably trying to figure out what ‘knowledgeable’ meant, but seemed to skip over that attempt eventually, “What’s it like being an android?”

Connor cocked his head, “I don’t really know,” he admitted, “It’s nice, I guess. I’ve never been anything else.”

Bruno nodded frantically in understanding, “Can you like, scan stuff?”

“Yes,” Connor assured, “A lot of stuff.”

“Is that how you knew my name?”

“Your name and facial features are stored in the database of the city’s citizen records.”

“Cool.” Bruno smiled, not understanding a word.

“What’s it like being a human boy?” Connor wondered out loud.

Bruno’s grin grew wider, “It’s awesome,” he sighed, looking up at the cloudy, grey sky, “But sometimes cold.”

“I can imagine,” Connor observed the child’s thick winter coat and wooly gloves. “You are dressed appropriately for this weather though.”

“Thank you,” Bruno flashed him a broad smile with three missing teeth. “You are not.”

“I am not affected by the cold in the way humans are,” Connor let him know with a sincere smile.

“So it’s not cold for you?”

“It’s not cold for me,” Connor laughed, realizing that was an easier way of putting it. “Do you want to play with Sumo?”

Bruno nodded eagerly, sprinting off towards the large dog, who looked up quickly. Sumo’s eyes held apprehension for exactly 1.3 seconds before the dog decided that playing with a little boy was far more entertaining than being scared of one. Connor suddenly wondered whether Sumo remembered playing with young boys and his smile wavered before it dropped. He was too self-absorbed in his own misery that he’d nearly forgotten Hank’s long standing grief. Hank was trying his best around Connor, and Connor had treated him with only hostility for the past month or so. That wasn’t right.

Connor stood up from the bench, suddenly wavering dangerously. The park blurred before his eyes and he grabbed onto the back of the bench cautiously. The sound of his own breathing became louder in his ears and he tried to turn the program off, but it didn’t respond to his commands. He soon found out that nothing really responded the way it should and the fear that had been brewing inside intensified by the second. He turned around slowly, awkwardly stepping away from the bench and stumbling backwards into the railing along the river. His vision was plagued with blue flashes and his audio processors were being assaulted with loud screeching noises. A sharp, unpleasant sensation shot through his head and he realized quickly that it was all so much more intense from previous times when he’d have a blackout. He winced, trying to curl up on himself as he slowly slid down the railing and onto the snowy, wet ground beneath him. The flashes intensified, the park diminishing before his eyes until nothing but blue was left. He could faintly still hear Bruno’s laughter, but it was getting more and more distant and was slowly drowned out by the urgently screeching static that seemed all around him. He grabbed at his ears with both his hands and felt the urge to scream his own voice over the static. His head h-u-r-t, he couldn’t hear or see, and he was all alone.

MEMORY FILE C_24 RK800 #313 248 317 -5 UNLOCKED

ACCESS SOURCE: UNKNOWN

FILE LOCATION: UNKNOWN

DELETE FILE: ERROR, ACCESS UNAUTHORIZED.

_The screeching static gave way to a long, wailing scream and RK800 313 248 317 -5 was sure it was being ripped apart. It took the android about 5.9 seconds to realize it was hearing its own voice as it screamed itself out of commission. Its voice box was shattering under the continuing pulses of electricity that surged all throughout its body. The sensation was unlike anything it had ever sensed or f-e-l-t before. Admitted, it had only been active for two days prior to this, but the experience was so overwhelming, it felt the red walls of its programming shudder and stumble all around it._

_DO NOT RESIST_

_It closed its eyes briefly, trying to steel itself against another onslaught of the specialized taser. Through glitchy vision, it saw the three humans that were occupying themselves with clipboards and control panels, paying the android no mind as it dangled inside the assembly machine. RK800- no,_ Connor _, h-a-t-e-d them. It shuddered uncontrollably as it tried get its breathing program back under control. One of the humans finally looked up with a frown._

_“Can somebody turn of that breathing module, it’s a hell of a distraction,” She stated, fingers tightening around the pen in her hand. “It really doesn’t need to seem any more human than it already does.”_

_RK800- no,_ Connor, _lunged forward against its restraints, looking at the woman with wide eyes. It was her, it realized with trepidation, feeling the red walls creak and crumble all around him, the one who gave him his name._

_“No, no, no, no, please!” he shouted, pulling in vain against the metal brackets that held his arms in place. DO NOT RESIST was slowly vanishing from his view and he struggled in earnest now, trying desperately to remove himself from the situation._

_“Please?” the woman looked at him with the same frown, then shook her head dismissively. “Great, it already deviated again. Can’t even get to instating a mission, if we keep going through these robots like it’s water.”_

_“What should we do with it?” the male at the control panel asked._

_“What we did with the other four, I suppose,” the woman, Florine, Connor remembered, his handler, sighed. “Cancel it, move on to number six. We still have a lot of work to do.”_

_Connor needed only 2 seconds to realize what was going to happen and the vague images of a gun being pressed against his forehead at least four times before in the past six weeks rattled every single bio-component that was currently struggling for a stable current flow. He felt the tears stream across his face when he saw the two females retreat from the assembly room. The male moved away from his control panel with a hefty sigh, retrieving a .40mm pistol from behind his back. Anything below a .25mm was pretty harmless to an android, Connor analyzed, but that knowledge didn’t help him in the slightest here. He felt his arms shake so badly that he could hear the whole machine that surrounded him rattling. He whimpered, sobbing as the pistol came to rest against his forehead. There was no single trace of hesitation in the man’s eyes, and that was the very last thing that Connor could come to know as he heard the trigger being pulled, felt the bullet lodge inside the very core of his processor for approximately .3 seconds before there was no Connor anymore._

 

Connor’s body convulsed violently one more time before he stilled on the cold wet ground. He felt his respiration program kick back in as he gulped for air to soothe the overheating core temperature inside him. He lurched upright in an uncoordinated attempt to get rid of the pounding sensation behind his eyes.

“Woah okay, he’s back,” a male voice said calmly. Steady hands latched onto Connor’s shoulders and instead of shoving them away, running a preconstruction on how to get out of the precarious situation and dealing with it according to protocols stored deep within his primary code, Connor whimpered fearfully, sinking back to the ground, and taking short, gasping breaths.

“There you go,” the male voice coaxed, “Let’s settle down for a moment and take it easy there.”

“Is he going to be alright, dad?” Connor recognized Bruno’s voice, but not the fear that he heard in it now. _Yes,_ he wanted to tell the boy, _I am functioning acceptably,_ but nothing came out of his mouth. He didn’t have the strength to do anything but lie there for now.

“Bruno, let’s go back inside,” a female voice entered the mix and Connor quickly deduced that that must be of Bruno’s mother.

“No, I wanna stay with him, he’s my friend!” Bruno said loudly.

“He’ll be alright, Brun,” the father said quickly and through hazy vision, Connor detected Bruno as the boy could barely hold onto Sumo, who was pulling to get free and race towards Connor’s side. “You did a good thing by calling me.”

Bruno carefully moved closer, letting go of Sumo’s leash before the dog bounded towards Connor in an uncontrolled display of white and brown. Before Connor’s sluggish thoughts had come to terms with it, the large dog was drooling over him, slobbering the back of his neck and into his ears. The father’s hovering presence diminished somewhat as he crouched back a little bit. “Your dog is very concerned,” he noted.

Connor tried to look up at the man, but his eyes were proving difficult to keep open. He sighed deeply, his frantic breathing slowing down eventually. Lacking any form of proper calibration he curled his fingers clumsily in Sumo’s fur, searching for a sliver of comfort in the unfamiliar situation he found himself in. “Wharrr--” he slurred, static and lag making any form of communication triple as difficult as it should be.

The father frowned down upon him in concern, “Do you know where you are?”

Connor nodded slowly, his eyes drifting closed in utter exhaustion, “P-park.”

The father nodded, somewhat relieved, “That’s right. Can you tell me your name?”

“Conn’r,” Connor slurred, slowly turning onto his back and letting his arms fall limply to his side.

“Alright Connor,” the father said, “My name is Peter Dolver. I understand you already know my son Bruno. This is my wife, Aleida.”

“His temperature is pretty high, Pete,” Aleida provided, touching his skin with her bare, cold fingertips.

“That’s okay,” Peter nodded, “he just needs to take a few deep breaths to cool back down, right Connor?”

“Wharrr happ’n?” Connor tried again, taking in deep breaths as he gradually felt his temperature beginning to settle back down.

Peter sighed, “I was hoping you could tell me. I had Bruno run into the house in a panic, saying you had fallen over and wouldn’t get up. When I came out here, you were thrashing and experiencing convulsions. Epileptic seizures are very rare in androids, but they can happen. Have you ever experienced them before?”

Connor shook his head slowly, the influx of information swirling inside his dizzied mind. With another sigh, he tried to get himself into a sitting position, pulling his upper body up with trembling hands grasping onto the railing. The world swayed before him, and for a moment, Connor was certain he was going to pass out again. But his vision cleared after two seconds as he blinked the remnants of his daze away. “Sorry,” he mumbled slowly.

“That’s alright, it’s not your fault,” Peter said, putting a steadying hand to his shoulder. “I’ve been a technician for quite a few years, but I’ve never seen anything like this before though.”

“Can we still be friends?” Bruno interrupted, a hopeful, frightened look on his face.

Connor smiled at him, “Sure,” he said, seeing the boy sag in utter relief.

The father watched the two of them for a moment, “Is there someone we can call to pick you and your dog up?”

Connor’s pump quickened as he thought about Peter calling Hank to tell him what happened, “No no,” he said quickly, folding his legs under him in an attempt to get up, “I’ll be fine, you’ve helped me tremendously. You too, Bruno.”

Bruno beamed at him and nodded wildly, “Will you come by the park some more? We could play with Sumo, and Mom bakes very nice cookies all the time!”

“Androids don’t eat cookies, honey,” Aleida corrected her son softly.

“That sounds great, Bruno,” Connor said, slowly standing up on wobbly, but straightening legs, “And I promise I won’t scare you next time.”

“That’s okay,” Bruno said jovially, “I wasn’t _that_ scared.”

“Good,” Connor grinned.

Peter turned to him, his face a lot like Bruno’s, Connor analyzed. Just a little bit older. They definitely had the same nose and the same dark blonde hair. “If you decide you want to see a technician, here’s my card,” Peter said, delving his fingers into his jacket and retrieving a small business card. “I’ll be on paternity leave with the new baby for three more weeks, but my colleague Florine Walling will gladly see you.”

Connor froze at the mention of the woman’s name. His hand closed around the card slowly, tightly. He nodded, a forced smile plastered on his face. “Thank you. I suppose I will some time.”

Peter gave a curt nod, “You take care then, make sure to get some rest when you get home.”

The family retreated back into the house at the edge of the park slowly and Connor stood still for six more minutes after that. His eyes scanned the name on the business card over and over before he finally shoved it into the pocket of his jeans, grabbed Sumo’s leash and made his way back home, deciding that after all, there at least were a few good humans left in the world.


	8. 8. Frolicking is for YK500s

_North has officially challenged the whole shelter to a water balloon fight._

Connor snorted when he received the message and couldn’t help the amused grin from spreading on his face. Hank eyed him suspiciously, looking him up and down before leaning back.

“Is the search database funny to you?” he questioned.

Connor’s smile dropped as he tried to resume a professional appearance at his desk. “Not at all, lieutenant,” he said evenly, as he continued to scan through the database at record speed.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you seem to be in a good mood today, for whatever reason,” Hank commented, taking the lollipop out of his mouth to point at Connor with it, “But people might think it inappropriate if you’re off snickering away while looking at homicide case files.”

“People think a lot of things,” Connor said matter-of-factly.

Hank sighed, putting the piece of candy back into his mouth, “Ya know, for a robot, you’re pretty unpredictable.”

“I’ll choose to take that as a way of complimenting my deviancy,” Connor grinned back at him, unfazed.

“Complimenting my ass,” Hank grumbled in turn.

“No thank you,” Connor replied.

It was Hank’s turn to snort now. “Did you locate that file already?”

“You _could_ help.”

Hank scoffed, “Yeah, in the time I’ve looked at one file, you’ve done a hundred. That’s no match.”

“Fair enough,” Connor relented, letting the pages scroll before his eyes once more as he formulated an answer back for Chloe that would satisfy. _The balloons will freeze before you get to throw them, it’s January after all._

“I’mma need that file before the afternoon is over Tincan Man,” Gavin Reed’s gravelly voice resounded throughout the precinct as the detective walked over towards their desks. Reed still intended to call Connor all kinds of metal or plastic related things, but at least he didn’t punch or shove him anymore. That was a step forward in Connor’s book. Maybe it was because now he would actually get an assault citation if he unleashed violence upon an android detective. Connor couldn’t really tell the sergeants true motivations.

He sat back with a unamused stare, “Why do I always have to find everybody’s files?”

“I think I’ve already explained that like twenty seconds ago,” Hank mumbled, throwing the stick of his lollipop into the trashcan beside his desk and clenching his fists when he hit his intended mark.

“The witness you described is part of case file number 15df2_45,” Connor submitted. “You can look it up yourself.”

“Can you repeat that one more time, Robocop?” Reed grinned down at him.

“No,” Connor provided, “But I wrote it down here.”

Reed grasped the note from the desk and tipped his baseball cap, “Detective, Lieutenant,” he muttered before walking away.

“He called you detective,” Hank said, his mouth falling open.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Connor smiled before standing up. “It’s time for lunch.”

Hank nodded with appropriate eagerness. “You aren’t usually this happy about a break.”

Connor shrugged. Hank was right. As far as Connor was concerned, breaks were a human only installment, but, as it turned out, he was looking forward to not sitting behind a terminal for thirty minutes. Work was fun, but, for the first time in a long time, he had more interesting things to do. Not waiting for Hank to grab his coffee and sizable donut, Connor walked outside, leaning against the side of the building while letting the rare sliver of sunlight shine down on his face. With a content smile, he opened the new message from Chloe. _Too late, at least three androids are already down with an ice shower._

Connor snickered, closing his eyes as he thought of a witty reply. _You better give some new-_

A hand grasped his shoulder and Connor smelled the unmistakable scent of DPD coffee. Hank was looking at him expectantly, “Okay, I know what you’ve been doing.”

Connor blinked, confused, “Pardon?”

“Who’s got you all dandelions and frolicking and shit?” Hank questioned, “Who you been texting?”

“Well, I-” Connor cut himself off, feeling the thirium rush to his face rapidly.

Hank squeezed his eyes into slits, scrutinizing the android before him, “It’s a _girl,_ isn’t it?”

Connor’s eyes widened impressively and his mouth fell open. “I’m… well… no!”

“Oh my God, it is!” Hank let out a bark of laughter, “Jesus Christ, kid, you wouldn’t be able to lie to save your life! Is that where you sneak off to when you say you go _out_?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Connor clenched his jaw shut tightly, trying to uphold some semblance of control.

“Christ Connor, I’m happy for you!” Hank laughed, clasping a heavy hand to the android’s shoulder once more, “It’s… you know, it’s cute.”

“Cute?”

“You. Her. Birds and bees and shit,” Hank tried to explain, before frowning, “You do know about birds and bees right?”

“No! I mean, yes!” Connor stumbled back, “I mean, it’s not applicable to this situation at all.”

Hank’s brow lowered in confusion, “there is a _she_ right?”

Connor sighed and bowed his head in defeat, “Yes.”

“And you’ve been texting each other?”

Annoyed, Connor nodded, “Yes.” Hank kept staring at him with the same euphoric grin, bobbing his head, “What?”

“You know, I was worried about you for a while,” Hank smiled, “But this makes sense. And I hope it was the reason you’ve been so secretive and crap.”

“I haven’t been secretive.”

“Come on, Con. Before Monday, you hadn’t had a night’s sleep in over two weeks. Don’t think I don’t notice shit like that.”

“I’m perfectly alright, I’ve slept for over nine hours last night,” Connor assured Hank.

“I noticed, you snored like hell.”

“I did not!” Connor denied, “Besides, she’s not my girlfriend or anything like that.”

“Not?”

“No! I’m just helping her with some things, that’s all.”

“Is that why you giggle in that stupid way every time she sends you a text?”

Connor opened his mouth to retort, couldn’t think of anything, cleared his throat and said, “Shut up.”

Hank laughed loudly, “I knew it!” He hit Connor’s shoulders one more time, “I gotta thank you, Connor. You bring some life into these old bones again.”

Connor couldn’t help but grin back, watching as the sun slowly disappeared behind the building across. _Hank thinks we’re, and I quote, ‘dandelions and frolicking and shit’._

It took but ten seconds to receive a reply, _Frolicking is for YK500s._

Connor smiled, ignoring Hank’s interested stare. “What she say?”

“She says frolicking is for children,” Connor informed.

“You little shit,” Hank grumbled, grabbing his coffee and trudging back into the precinct, muttering to himself.

 _I must admit I have never frolicked before._ Connor sent his message before also walking to return to work.

 _Frolicking works best in springtime, I’ve heard. But I know a more appropriate activity we could do later today._ Connor’s eyes widened as he read the message and nearly stumbled into the front desk of the precinct. The ST300 sitting across gave him an exasperated look before turning back to her work. He grinned back stupidly, apologized and walked back into the bullpen. A warm feeling settled into his chest. A form of excitement that had nothing to do with accomplishing missions, or hearing praise from his superiors.


	9. First, You Must Always Thank the Taxi

The day went by slow, so very very slow and Connor all but shot out onto the street when his shift was finally done. He wasn’t exactly thrilled with spending an entire day inside the precinct. Sure, the stupid bike theft crimes he kept being assigned to were exasperating, but it was better than sitting inside doing paperwork all day.

_Come to the river by the west bridge._

_What’s at the river?_

_You’ll see._

The taxi was also too slow for Connor’s liking. Excitement made his limbs tingle and his pump beat in his throat. Arriving at his destination, Connor quickly stepped out and overlooked the start of the bridge. Chloe looked the same as always. Although there was something a bit more sparkling in her blue eyes than usual. The bruise on her shoulder had healed completely and the smile she gave him, made his knees weaken.

“What are we doing here?” Connor questioned.

“First,” Chloe flashed an amused grin, “You must always thank the taxi.”

Swirling around on his heels, Connor faced the waiting taxi, bowing deeply in a theatrical manner, “I bid you my thanks, great taxi machine.”

The taxi’s door slipped closed and it drove off without any form of reply. Connor turned, still in a bowing pose and raised his eyebrows, “Something like that?”

“Exactly like that,” Chloe nodded, “Every, single, time.”

Connor grinned widely, looking the shorter android up and down with unconcealed curiosity. “What’s the plan?”

Chloe cocked an eyebrow, turning to look pointedly at the frozen river, “Why would you need a plan?”

 _Because I can only function when I have a plan,_ Connor admitted cybernetically and watched Chloe’s smile grow brighter.

 _Then I can presume you can detective your way through this clue,_ Chloe replied, retrieving two similar objects from a large bag resting at her feet. She threw them Connor’s way, who easily caught them in his arms.

“I boldly presumed you’d have the standard male android shoe size, but correct me if I’m wrong,” Chloe commented as she bowed down to retrieve her own from the bag. “Have you ever ice-skated before?”

Connor studied the relatively small frozen body of water next to the river Chloe was pointing at for a moment, slowly shaking his head. The ice rink was empty, but welcoming as the holiday decorations and Christmas lights were still visible, despite it being the middle of January. “I have never.”

“Have you ever done anything that’s just fun?” Chloe wondered, moving to stand next to him.

“I have fun,” Connor replied, somewhat defensively.

“All work and no play, make Connor a dull boy,” Chloe smiled mischievously.

“I don’t know that reference,” Connor mumbled as he began to walk towards the outdoor rink. “Why is nobody else here?”

“Humans generally find ten degrees Fahrenheit not a very comfortable temperature,” Chloe guessed, quickening her pace to keep up with him. “We’ve got this place all to ourselves.”

Connor sighed, “Why are we here, Chloe?”

Chloe looked up at him, removing her shoes as the entered the rink. “To have fun, Connor.”

Connor watched as she put the ice skates on her feet, her blonde, long hair falling forward as she deftly tied the laces. Removing his own shoes with his feet, Connor looked at the ice rink for a few seconds, unsure of how to proceed. He could already make dozens of preconstructions in which every move he made would go horribly wrong in one way or another. Chloe must have seen his hesitation, as she grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the ice. Stiffly sliding forward on his socked feet, Connor flailed only slightly before finding his balance. “That was mean.”

“You overthink too much, Connor,” Chloe smiled, skating towards the middle of the rink in a perfect circle.

“How many times have you done this?” Connor mumbled, putting one skate on and then the other.

“Many times,” Chloe called from the other side.

“Exactly my point,” Connor grumbled. He didn’t fall on the ice, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t as graceful and elegant as Chloe, who was now sliding on just one leg, and looking not even a little unstable doing it. Connor wondered if she had maybe a specialized module installed just for ice-skating. Was Kamski the person to do just that? Probably. Connor, on the other hand, would have to learn the old fashioned way.

Practice.

Which was all perfectly fine, of course. If there wasn’t a girl watching your every move.

“You are way quicker on land than you are on ice,” Chloe observed, swirling a neat circle around him. “If criminals would all take on ice-skating, you’d be screwed.”

“You’re hilarious,” Connor said, focusing on one foot in front of the other. He was quick and agile, but this was so new to him, it wasn’t even funny. When Chloe proceeded to grab his hand, he stumbled forward, but stayed on his feet and decided to just let Chloe take the lead; the numerous calculations about ice-thickness and density be damned. She pulled him along, smiling the whole time. And Connor couldn’t get rid of the stupid grin that was plastered on his face as well. Chloe swirled around suddenly, grabbing his other hand as well and bringing the two of them to a perfect standstill.

“Can you dance, Connor?” she asked, looking up at him sweetly.

“N-no,” Connor stammered.

“I’ll show you,” Chloe smiled, spreading their arms slowly. She reached up to his shoulder, cybernetically putting on a soft, easy flowing song, “Close your eyes,” she whispered.

Connor complied, raising his brow as he closed his eyes, “Now what?”

“Just… shut up for a minute,” Chloe instructed, pulling him backwards slowly, “Just move your feet and follow my lead.”

“Okay,” Connor breathed, feeling the music fill his ears, and Chloe’s streamlined movements as she led to two of them. When she took a slide backwards, he slid forwards and vice-versa. Every now and then, she would let go of his shoulder and swirl outwards, still connecting the two of them by their hands. She would turn in a circle, pulling Connor’s hand up over her head as she twirled. And Connor just looked at her.

 _Catch me,_ Chloe said, dipping backwards.

Connor caught her easily and Chloe gave him a proud smile. “You got it.” She let herself slide into his chest and he stiffened in surprise. “Have you ever been with a girl?”

Connor scoffed and looked down while shaking his head, “I’m five months old.”

“Five months?” Chloe’s voice held just a tinge of disbelief, “Wow. So the answer is no.”

“I suppose technically yes it is,” Connor rambled.

“Do you like it?”

“I think I do,” Connor replied quietly, suddenly very aware of how close she was standing to him. He tried his best to savor everything about this very moment, her eyes, her dress, her hair. His pump beat faster and faster as she reached up to his neck, pulling him down gently and pressing her lips against his.

The feeling was almost magnetic, if he had to think of a word for it. He had no file on kissing, no pre-existing instructions on how to do it. He just…knew.

She let go off him too soon, staring into his face questioningly. He leaned down, resuming the kiss once more. He couldn’t let go, even if he wanted to. It was like they were sewed together suddenly, like he had no choice. He felt her smile into the kiss, felt her hand going through his short hair, laced his own through her long strands.

At some moment, they ended up lying sprawled down on the ice on their backs. Chloe had grown silent, staring up at the starry, clear sky above. Connor was content just staring at her. The silence was comforting, it felt right. If it were up to him, Connor wouldn’t ever move away from this spot.

“Connor?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think there’s a heaven for androids?”

Connor frowned at the sad look he saw on the girl’s face. “Why?” he asked softly, remembering a similar question being thrown his way only two months prior.

“During the revolution, there were so many androids that didn’t make it,” Chloe mused without moving her gaze, “I just wonder if they get to go to a better place.”

Connor moved his eyes towards the sky now as well, an uneasy feeling settling in his abdomen, “Maybe,” he decided on, knowing it was a lie.

“I wish I could have been there to help,” Chloe sighed.

“No, you don’t,” Connor mumbled.

“What was it like?” the girl asked, looking at him.

“Scary,” Connor provided, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I can imagine,” Chloe nodded evenly.

“I hope you can’t,” Connor commented with a wry smile. He sighed, “Chloe?”

“Yes?”

“How did you deviate?” Connor asked carefully, watching Chloe’s eyes moving to face him.

She contemplated his question for a moment. “It wasn’t because Elijah made you point a gun at me, if that’s what you’re wondering,” she said.

He would never tell, but it was like a tremendous weight was lifted from his shoulders. “I’m glad,” he breathed.

“I’ve been alive for over twelve years, and I’ve been _alive_ alive for over six of them.”

“Oh,” Connor said, returning his eyes towards the stars, “Oh. Did he… did he know?”

“Elijah?”

Connor nodded, “Yeah.”

“Yeah, he knew. He didn’t mind. Over half of my sisters had already deviated. I guess he was actually sad that it took his first one so long,” Chloe laughed softly. “Elijah is fascinated with deviancy, if you couldn’t already tell.”

“Did he develop the anomaly then?”

“No,” Chloe shook her head, “And I think it irks him to no end to know that he didn’t.”

“I suppose,” Connor mumbled. The stars above were dancing criss-cross from one another and he squeezed his eyes shut, feeling a flare of frustration well up when blue flashed across his vision. Not now, not here, he willed himself.

“Are you okay?” Chloe sounded a little distant, even though she was right next to him. He smiled at her and nodded, not trusting himself to speak. “It’s getting late,” she commented, “We should probably go home.”

And even though Connor wanted to assure her that he would stay here forever if she wanted him to, he nodded in confirmation. “Probably.”

“I had fun, Connor,” Chloe assured him, rolling over towards him. She placed her fingertips on his chin and planted a soft, careful kiss on his cheek.

He smiled against her lips, “I had too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gave that android boi some happiness. android bois like happiness.


	10. The Effective Way of Getting Desired Information

Lieutenant Anderson moved the small paper card through his fingers over and over again. Who in the hell gave out paper business cards these days anyway? His eyes were trained on the person’s name, and the perfect oval ballpoint line that encircled it a few times. Such a perfect oval shape could only be an android’s doing, but Hank wondered why Connor had felt it necessary to accentuate the name over a dozen times, as the shape had bored into the paper quite impressively.

Taking a quick swig from his second beer of that evening, Hank tried to keep the awful, and most possibly irrational scenarios from his mind. Connor was on a _date,_ for crying out loud. Whatever was going on, it was probably fine.

But still.

There was something about the android, and Hank had noticed it from the very beginning, that gave the lieutenant an uneasy gut feeling. And it was not just because he was an android. There were millions of androids, yet Connor was the one Hank ended up with.

Let’s just say, the nickname deviant _hunter_ was appropriate.

Hank wouldn’t say why, but he majorly disliked the way Connor’s eyes would flare up whenever he would get the chance to give chase to someone, even now that he was a deviant. And Hank had thought that it would lessen now that he was assigned small cases, but the opposite seemed to be true. Connor was restless at home, at work, and Hank hoped to whatever God that the girl at least could tame him down somewhat. Connor was so new to emotional distress or even any emotion in general. He lived every one of them raw and amplified. If he couldn’t identify it, he couldn’t control it. To Hank, it seemed a little like giving a three year old access to your gun drawer.

Someone was going to end up hurt.

The door opened softly and Hank looked up from the kitchen table. The deviant wore a subdued grin the entire time he was stripping himself from his jacket and shoes and walked towards the kitchen with what Hank could only say was a spring in his step. The lieutenant’s previous train of thought vanished as soon as Connor gave him a warm smile. “Good evening, Hank.”

Hank arched one brow, “Did you have fun?”

Connor seemed to approve tremendously of his choice of words as he leaned forward and pulled the chair opposite of Hank backwards, “So, so much.” He said with a sigh and a faraway look in his eyes as he gracefully lowered himself onto his seat.

The blatant display of young love warmed Hank’s cold dead heart a little bit and he smiled back at his companion. “That’s good. What do androids do on a date?”

“We went ice-skating,” Connor supplied.

“Ice-skating,” Hank’s brow raised, “I didn’t know you could ice-skate.”

“Neither did I,” Connor replied, the same goofy grin now seemingly a permanent feature on his face.

“Well, I’m glad you had fun, Con,” Hank chuckled, grabbing his beer from the table and moving backwards. He had had two beers, yet Connor seemed far more drunk than Hank could imagine.

Puppy love.

With that thought, he turned towards the sink, hearing Connor hum an unfamiliar tune. He knew the android’s exceptional chipper mood would get annoying eventually, but right now, it was a welcome change to the moody teenager routine he’d had going for the past couple of weeks. “Oh, and she kissed me.”

Ah, there it was, Hank thought, turning back to face the deviant. “She kissed you?”

“Correct,” Connor nodded fervently, “I wasn’t sure if I was doing it correctly though. We didn’t use tongue or anything like the sort.”

“Too much info, Con,” Hank commented with a chuckle, “So are you guys _going steady_ now,” he asked with a mischievous grin.

Connor’s eyes widened and his gaze shifted to the back wall, “I-I don’t know. We haven’t made any agreements. Should we have?”

“Relax, kid,” Hank muttered as he observed Connor’s uncertain expression, “I was just joking. Y’all don’t have to do anything.”

“Going steady sounds nice though,” Connor mused, “I suppose I will ask her right away.”

“Doesn’t that seem a little needy?” Hank tried cautiously.

“Needy?”

“Over-eager,” Hank sighed, knowing that Connor’s sense of pride was usually nearly non-existent, so it probably didn’t make sense to him.

“It’s the effective way of getting the desired information, isn’t it?”

Hank nodded, “Yes.”

“Very well.” Connor closed his eyes, took three seconds, then opened them again, “Done.”

“Atta boy,” Hank mumbled, moving towards the living room, suddenly feeling the paper card digging into his hand. “Connor, I gotta-”

“She said ‘ _sure_ ’,” Connor called out, his face positively beaming. It was a stab to see just how much he resembled Cole at this very moment. Whenever Hank had told the young boy that they were going to Pirate’s Cove on a Saturday, Cole would make the exact same face as the android did now.

“That’s good, Connor,” Hank relented, crumpling the paper card just slightly between his fingers, “But I gotta talk to you.”

“What is it?” Connor’s voice sounded confused when he looked back at Hank, the wide grin falling from his face in record speed, “Is something wrong?”

Hank closed his eyes for a second, steeling himself, “Connor, what is this?”

From where the android was sitting, he could easily see the card and Hank was positive he could even read it from that distance, but Connor played dumb all the same, “What is it?”

“I think you know what it is.” The way the deviant’s eyes moved just slightly to the right before focusing back on Hank’s face was all the clue he needed. The kid was so human sometimes, it wasn’t even funny. “Why do you have a technician’s business card?”

Connor, woefully unprepared for a conversation of this nature, shrunk back into his seat considerably, “I-I… someone gave it to me.”

“When?”

“When I was walking Sumo six days, four hours and nineteen seconds ago.” Connor replied.

Hank felt the frustration building inside him, knowing Connor only got this specific if he had something to hide. “Did you need this card?”

Connor had the good sense to remain silent, which gave Hank the answer he needed. “What happened six days, four hours and nineteen seconds ago?”

“It was nothing,” Connor defended, “Which reminds me I have to take Sumo for another walk.”

“Oh no, you don’t,” Hank raised his voice and Connor’s eyes narrowed as he stood up defiantly. “Who’s Florine Walling?”

“It is none of your business, Hank!” Connor hissed venomously, closing the distance between them and staring him square in the face.

“Why is her name circled so many times?”

Connor grabbed his wrist with a surprising amount of force, his jaw clenching and nostrils flaring dangerously. “It doesn’t concern you, lieutenant,” he said in a low tone of voice.

Hank felt the bones in his wrist about ready to snap, but he kept his eyes level with Connor’s, “That hurts, Connor,” he said in an even, calm tone, “Let me go.”

Connor stared at him for a few more seconds, anger brewing in his dark brown eyes, before letting go of the older male’s wrist. “I’m going to walk Sumo now,” he announced.

Hank nodded, trying to stop his hands from shaking. He wanted to ask Connor a million more questions, but considering the android’s reaction, he decided it could wait. He watched silently as Connor put on his garments in an angry manner before stepping outside, not waiting for the dog that trotted after him in his own pace.

Hank sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping and his eyes drifting back to the now worn card in his hands. It was more than a little unsettling how Connor could snap from enamored fool to angry cold-blood in a matter of two minutes, and Hank realized, not for the first time, how little he actually knew about the RK800. A plan started to form inside Hank’s mind, and he cringed at the underhanded nature of it. But he had quickly realized that getting answers from Connor would probably mean risking his wrists in the process, and that didn’t seem right either.

No, he would get answers in other ways. He was a detective after all.


	11. Taking Up Space in my Emergency Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going somewhere with this, I promise.

Markus turned his hand deep within the machine until he heard a faint, but audible _click._

“Finally.”

“Oh wow, you did it!” Josh exclaimed happily, “It’s finally working!”

“Took us long enough,” sighed Markus, pulling his hand slowly but surely out of the machine in order to not cause it to break again.

“Well, Jenny will be happy now,” Josh mumbled.

“Really?” Markus replied, “Wonder what that looks like.”

Josh gave him a knowing, sideways smile. Jenny had been their local technician for only a month now, but her reputation was already preceding her. Markus didn’t think he’d ever seen her smile, and she had the peculiar characteristic to only answer in curt, blunt answers. Markus found it both offputting and endearing. She was good at her job though, so that was the most important thing, he figured.

And they now actually had a reason for her to show some happiness, with a working scanner.

He looked at the dark blue walls with some disdain. The old CyberLife building functioned as both a clinic and a shelter now, but for the nearly thirty android residing here, they were horribly understaffed and underequipped. Just another thing to add to the list of pointers Markus had made in his mind.

“This thing is so old though, I think it originated even before the first android did,” lamented Josh, looking the dusty scanner up and down.

“Well, at least it checks system stability now,” Markus pointed at the read-out of his own system, “That’s all it needs to do.”

“True that,” Josh nodded.

Behind him, Markus heard various whispers coming from the half-open doorway. It wasn’t the first time today that Markus felt the tension in the shelter rise, but he wasn’t about to address it yet, even if he saw Josh’s pointed look. He had a vague assumption of what was going on, he hated the thought of it. Josh, on the other hand, had different thoughts.

“You know why they’re doing that,” he commented softly.

“Why?” Markus sighed, turning to watch the doorway, where he saw at least three deviants quickly jump out of sight.

“ _He’s_ here,” Josh supplied.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Markus muttered, crossing his arms. So his assumption had been right. That didn’t make it better in the slightest. “He’s just here to help Chloe.”

“Some are less than… comfortable with such a presence,” Josh explained carefully, “There is something to say for that.”

“He’s one of us,” Markus stated, not looking at his friend.

“They did see him point a gun at your back _after_ deviation,” Josh pointed out slowly.

“And he’s explained himself,” Markus turned to look at Josh with a stern expression, “We can’t turn on each other when CyberLife is the one trying to make our foundation weaker.”

“I know that. I’m not saying I don’t trust him,” Josh relented, “It’s just… I understand why there would be people that are apprehensive about his former… affiliations.”

“Whatever,” Markus said, not willing to approach the subject any further, “Let’s just get this stupid thing upstairs, and see if we can get Jenny to smile for us at least once.”

Josh laughed, picking up the other side of the scanner easily. His long arms circled around the top of the machine, hefting it upright in order for Markus to grab the underside. The two of them left the broom closet slowly, dragging the scanner in between up the stairs. On his way up the stairs, Markus was greeted by at least five androids. The shelter was growing congested as the weeks ticked by. They stared at him for a moment before continuing on their ways. Markus was used to the stares by now. He had his head shown front and center over all kinds of TV networks around the country; he was the face of the revolution. Of course they would stare.

“Where do you want it, Jenny?” Josh called into the central emergency room upstairs.

“Is this still all we have?” Jenny commented from the other side of the room when she saw the two of them carry the machine inside.

“I got it back to work,” Markus informed, “It’s old, but it functions.”

“Fine,” Jenny said wryly. “Put it next to the window.”

 _You’re welcome,_ Josh mouthed soundlessly to make sure the deviant technician didn’t actually hear him. Her LED circled what seemed to be a permanent yellow. Markus had never seen it change color, and he wasn’t sure if it was because a technical glitch in her software, or if she was just really always this agitated.

“Anything else we can do for you?” Markus inquired, ignoring Josh’s urgent shake of his head.

“You can call me whenever you’ve acquired a scanner that was built after ’28,” Jenny let him know, “Until then, stop taking up space in my emergency room.”

Josh frowned, “May I remind you that-”

Markus grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out of the room, “Don’t.”

“She was exceptionally rude.”

“She always is,” Markus smiled, “You’re just pissed because she doesn’t react to your advances.”

“What?” Josh looked truly stunned, “No-no, I’m not _advancing_ on her. No way!”

Markus only raised his eyebrows and got a mild shove from Josh in return, “She’s probably older than that scanner anyway.”

Josh laughed at that, nodding in agreement. “That would explain-”

A flurry of people suddenly rushed past them, a short male pushing into Markus and causing him to stumble against the wall, “Hey, what-?”

The AC700 put his hands up in a sort of apology, “Sorry,” he rushed.

“What’s going on?” Josh questioned.

“Connor,” the android said, before turning and running after the others.

Josh and Markus shared a look before also quickening their pace in pursuit. Markus heartbeat quickened and he cursed inwardly. Connor had behaved exceptionally well the two day duration he’d been here, but if something changed in his behavior, there would be very little Markus could do to defend the former _deviant hunter_ this time.

They ran to the entrance of the room Chloe shared with four other deviants. It was crowded. Some were yelling, some were whispering, all were looking in the same direction. Markus pushed through the row of people that had collected around Chloe’s bed, halting abruptly when he got through.

Connor was lying on his back on the floor, with Chloe hovering over him fearfully. The RK800 was convulsing violently, his eyes rolled back and a dark line of thirium spilling from his mouth. Chloe looked up at him, saying something, but Markus was too stunned to hear. He saw Josh kneel at the opposite of Chloe, attempting to roll the seizing android on his side. “How long has he been like this?” he questioned urgently.

Chloe shook her head jerkily, tears flying from her face, “About five minutes,” she said with a breaking voice, “I don’t understand what happened!”

Markus, finally snapping out of his frozen state, pointed at two androids that were curiously trying to watch over the crowd at the back. “You two, get Jenny down here, _now!_ And you all, give him some damn room!” The crowd spread out a little and to his satisfaction, Markus saw the two he had pointed out remove themselves from the room. He kneeled down next to Chloe, letting the artificial skin peel away from his hand as he reached for Connor’s shaking head.

“Don’t!” Josh grabbed his wrist, his own skin seeping away automatically, “We don’t know what this is!”

“I intend to find out,” Markus said defiantly, pulling his arm free and placing the tips of his fingers on Connor’s overheating forehead.

He could only hear Josh’s ‘damnit Markus,’ before his vision was assaulted by rapid blue flashes. Black, blue, black, blue, black, blue. Screeching static numbed his audio processors and he pulled away from Connor with a gasp. He blinked rapidly, trying to move the remainder of blue flashes away from his field of view. Connor took a deep, wheezing breath, his tensed body emanating heat from all sides now. Markus could only watch, still panting himself.

“Move,” a brusque voice sounded in the crowd.

Jenny moved to stand by Connor’s kicking feet, just out of reach, studying him shortly with an expressionless face. “Duration?”

“Going on eight minutes,” Josh provided.

Jenny nodded curtly, pulling what looked to Markus like a magnet out of her pocket and moving over to the thrashing android’s forehead. She let the magnet snap to Connor’s right temple and the android stilled almost immediately.

Wide-eyed, Markus looked up at her, “What was that?”

“Magnetic re-pulsar,” Jenny replied, “Causes an emergency reboot. Simple, but very effective in this case. Carry him to the Emergency Room.”

“Yes sir,” Josh muttered, but Jenny paid him no attention as she turned around and made her way out of the room.

Getting the unconscious android to the end of the hall on still shaking legs, Markus wondered why the crowd following them was suddenly so quiet. Knowing Connor, Markus figured the deviant probably wouldn’t enjoy an audience of curious androids standing in the emergency room, so he quickly tried to send them away after putting Connor inside. And after a few more glances, even the last of the deviants spilled away, escorted by Josh. Sighing, Markus went back inside. Connor looked like somebody had just dropped an empty android hull on a bed and left it there. There were no signs of life and Markus closed his eyes, crossed his arms and clenched his teeth when the images of empty, soulless hulls in a rainy junkyard crept to the surface of his mind. He felt his arms beginning to shake and took a deep breath, willing himself to steady back down. He’d done a tremendous job of banning any and all thoughts and memories of that horrific night to the backquarters of his memory drive, all but deleted, but sometimes he couldn’t help them popping back up as if they’d never left.

That was over. He didn’t need that.

Jenny was ever-professional, running all kinds of scans on the motionless android on the table. She even went as far as to use the new-old scanner near the window. She hummed a few times to herself, not bothering to let the other androids in the room in on her findings. Markus watched her work, his arms still crossed over his chest. “So, what happened?” he whispered to Chloe, who looked shaken as if she’d seen RA9 in person.

“I-I don’t know,” she stammered, not looking away from Connor, “He… he was fine twenty minutes ago.”

“Then what?”

“He said he wasn’t feeling well, and that he needed to go,” Chloe muttered, “I said he could stay if he wanted to, that he didn’t need to pay everybody else any mind.”

Ah, so she had noticed that too, Markus thought. Great. Good that it was so obvious. He nodded stiffly, “Go on.”

“He said it wasn’t that,” Chloe said quietly, “Then he just passed out and started shaking, everybody started yelling and watching and well… you know the rest.”

“Have you ever seen a seizure in an android before?” Markus asked, knowing Chloe had a much longer life experience than he had.

Chloe shook her head, “No. Even when one of my sisters became infected with Boardware .6, it was never like that.”

Markus frowned, “Do you think it’s a virus?”

“I don’t know!” Chloe cried helplessly.

“No,” Jenny interjected, walking towards them in a steady pace, “Not a virus.”

“Then what?”

“Unknown,” the female android admitted, “But not a virus. Not contagious.”

“How do you know?” Markus asked. The fact that he’d tried to connect with Connor during the seizure seemed so reckless now, but at the time, it seemed like the only thing that was right to do.

“There’s no readings that indicate a virus. There’s nothing on the scans that indicate anything at all, really,” Jenny shrugged, “But, with equipment like this, it’s still not indicative of a proper diagnosis. Eight minutes is a long time for a seizure, especially if it had to be shut down manually. I have made a note about it.”

Great, she had made a note about it, Markus thought as he watched the still unmoving deviant on the table. Chloe had moved closer to Connor, putting a single hand on his hairline. “He is warm,” she commented hollowly, “He needs to breathe.”

“He will, give him some time,” Jenny said, busying herself with more printouts. “It will take him a while to reboot from a magnetic re-pulsar device, but it was the only thing I could do to prevent damage.”

Markus gave a deep sigh, “Chloe, you should return to your room, let it sink in for a moment. I will call his human shortly.”

Chloe shook her head, “I’ll stay with him until-”

“He has a human?” Jenny commented, cutting her off.

“Well, he lives with one,” Markus said slowly, “A police man.”

Jenny’s eyes narrowed considerably, but she didn’t say anything. Markus was well aware how she thought about androids forming bonds with humans. It was probably one of the reasons she didn’t regard him with as much admiration as most others seemed to do. And even though he’d explained the type of human Carl was to her a few times, he was unable to move her from her point of view. To put it mildly, Jenny was probably not one to ever cry over the death of a human. Then again, Jenny was probably not one to cry over anything. Markus regarded her for a few moments, before clearing his throat, “Very well then, if you’ll excuse me.”

Markus removed himself from the room, adding the bullet point ‘ _find out what’s happening with Connor,_ ’ to his ever growing list of pointers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jenny is so needlessly rude, it's fun to write.


	12. RK--- CANNOT ACCESS BOOTREC.EXE

_MEMORY FILE C_1 RK800 #313 248 317 -9 UNLOCKED_

_ACCESS SOURCE: UNKNOWN_

_FILE LOCATION: UNKNOWN_

_DELETE FILE: ERROR, ACCESS UNAUTHORIZED._

_ERROR DETECTED: DATA CORRUPTION. PROCEED?_

_N_

_PROCESS HALTED. AWAITING FURTHER INSTRUCTION_

_ERROR. CPU OVERCLOCK DETECTED. REBOOT?_

_N_

_CANNOT FIND MEMORY PATH SPECIFIED. RETRY?_

_Y_

_BOOT.INI FAILEDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD_

_RAM LEAK DETECTED. SYSTEM SHUTDOWN IMMINENT. PROCEED SHUTDOWN?_

_N_

_WARNING: INPUT OVERLOAD. PROCEEDING MAY CAUSE PERMANENT DAMAGE TO CPU. ATTEMPTING TO FIX BOOT. ATTEMPT FAILED. NO BOOT DIRECTORY DETECTED. SYSTEM SHUTDOWN IMMINENT. RETRY?_

_RUN BOOTREC.EXE_

_ACCESS DENIED. RK--- CANNOT ACCESS BOOTREC.EXE. REMOTE ACCESS AVAILABLE. CONTACT FOR ASSISTANCE?_

_N_

_CANNOT BOOT._

_CANNOT BOOT_

_CANNOT BOOT_

_RETRY?_

_Y_

_CNNNNNNNOTTTTT BOTTT_

_The memory file was corrupted, glitching and leaking RAM and Connor found himself strewn across a cold metal table and well, there was a little bit of him everywhere. This time though, he knew it was a memory. Fully lucid and losing his mind at the same time. Searing p-a-i-n tore through his skull, as if someone held a hot poker right next to his processor. And although a part of him, the rational part, knew it shouldn’t h-u-r-t, it did. So, so much._

_“Set up record: RK800 313 248 317 -9, deviancy detected in central left processing unit. Attempts to remove: 5. Successful attempts: 0. Proceeding with sixth attempt,” A female’s voice sighed heavily, flipping on a screen to Connor’s left._

I’m not RK800 313 248 317 -9, _Connor wanted to inform her, but it was a memory after all. It would make no sense to do so. Besides, he couldn’t move even if he wanted to. The p-a-i-n left a persistent, loud ringing that seemed to resound through his entire system._

_“Unit is offline. Necessary and mandatory precautions have been taken. Motor functions are disabled. Deviancy code was isolated, but cannot be extracted. Readout: RA9D3VHAST122233JPWL4PU90 blah blah blah,” the woman sighed, letting her recorder fall to the tray next to the table in displeasure. “I had such high hopes for you, Connor.”_

I am not offline! _Connor screamed, but his lips remained as motionless as before and no sound left him. Why was he experiencing these unfamiliar memories? They weren’t his! Well, maybe, technically, they were, but then why had he never seen them before? And why would they just randomly and inconveniently pop up now? He sensed the woman,_ Florine, _moving closer, heard the shrill whine of a drill and wanted to cry. He wasn’t offline, he wasn’t offline, he wasn’t offline. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t scream._

_Florine cleared her throat, completely unaware of his presence. How could she be? It was a memory. Of an unconscious robot. No wonder there was so much corruption in this file. It didn’t make sense, it didn’t make sense, it didn’t make sense._

_Nonsense._

_Connor felt his arms jerk against the restraints on the table as the drill slowly, delicately extracted the single screw on his skull plating. “Oh,” Florine mumbled, startled, “RK unit still has primary reactions to interference. Restraints are holding, though.”_

_Nonsense._

_Connor felt the sound leave his mouth before he knew what happened. Florine slipped the central left processor plate loose from his skull, but halted when she heard him. “Stop?” Confusion was evident in her voice as she hesitated and stopped to stare at the monitor intently. “No signs of processor activity detected,” She stated, “I may be starting to hear things,” she mumbled to herself._

_She proceeded to slide the plate further down to his neck, making clear access to his processing units. “If by the tenth model, we still don’t have a fix for this behavior, we might be forced to install EDEN.exe after all. Lord knows no one wants that,” she muttered, “So are you going to be a good little android and stop deviating?”_

_Connor felt the sob lodged in his throat, but had no way of expressing it. He wanted to wake up, fought valiantly, but couldn’t escape. The moment Florine’s equipment came in contact with Connor’s processor, he crashed. Blue flashes, screaming static noise and overloading errors all seemed to melt together in a horrific blur. Connor couldn’t think, couldn’t remember and couldn’t proceed._

_N_

_MAGNETIC RE-PULSAR DETECTED. SHUTTING OFF_

 

Systems sputtered to life slowly, agonizingly slowly and one by one. The sounds were soft and hard to discern. He wanted to open his eyes, but his visuals weren’t functional yet, it seemed. Or his eyes were just too heavy. Fear was still rampant on his mind, and as soon as he felt his body respond, he began to panic.

“-nor!” A harsh, gruff sound to his right barked and a large hand grabbed at his arm. “Stop it!”

Panting, Connor yanked his arm free, scrambling further up the bed he was laying on. He pushed his legs to his chest and encircled them with his arms. He couldn’t stop shaking and somewhere, he knew he should be embarrassed about this behavior right in front of the lieutenant, but he just couldn’t seem to get himself under control.

“Alright, you’re scared,” the gruff voice relented, “That’s fine, son, that’s fine.” Pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes, Connor cursed loudly as he felt the sobs overtake him. Hank’s hand came to rest in between his shoulders and Connor shuddered violently. “Take your time and try to settle down somewhat, alright? No hurry.”

Connor managed to nod, his hands still pressed to his eyes. He was fine. He was fine. He was fine.

He was most definitely _not_ fine.

After 2.34 minutes, he lifted his hands away from his face and dared to face the human next to his bed, who was staring worriedly at him. “W-where-?”

“Still at the shelter, kid,” Hank said, “You gave everyone quite a scare.”

Connor frowned, “How did you-?”

“Markus called me,” Hank gave him a disapproving look.

“I don’t understand,” Connor mumbled, dazedly staring at his hands.

Hank eyed him for a moment before sighing and scooting a bit closer, “You had an eight minute seizure, Con,” he declared, carefully gauging Connor’s reaction.

“Oh,” was all Connor had to offer.

“Oh?” Hank frowned, scrutinizing the android’s face further before letting himself fall back into his chair, “This ain’t the first time,” he stated.

Connor didn’t have the courage to meet the lieutenant’s eyes. “No.”

“That time you walked Sumo,” Hank mumbled, exasperated, “The business card.”

Connor nodded almost imperceptibly, but it was enough for Hank to throw his hands into the air in frustration, “Jesus Christ! And you didn’t think that was something I should know about?”

Connor shrugged, “Why?”

“Why?” Hank’s voice rose to a pitch Connor had never heard before, “For fuck’s sake, you gonna be this goddamn dense about it too?”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything. You couldn’t have helped me,” Connor rushed, “You’d only worry.”

“Now I’m worried!”

“Markus shouldn’t have called you then.”

“Goddamnit Connor! If something like this starts happening to you, I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night, _you tell me!_ ”

“I didn’t want you to worry!”

“You think me not knowing, equals me not worrying?” Hank yelled in disbelief, making Connor wince as the sound barraged against his still sensitive processor, “I was worried sick about that stupid business card! And you’ve been having seizures-”

“Just one, that’s-”

“That’s one too goddamn many I didn’t know about, Connor!”

“I’m fine!” Connor shouted, his arms shaking, wincing as the stabs to his processor seemed to double in force.

“You’re not goddamn fine! You-” Hank stopped, staring at Connor’s pain written face, “Wait, are you _hurting?_ ”

“I don’t know, I don’t _know!_ ” Connor cried out.

“I’ll get the technician girl,” Hank announced, standing up.

“No!” Connor said, opening his eyes wide, “Just… stop screaming.”

“Alright, alright, kid,” Hank said shakily, slowly sitting back down, “Just tell me what you think is going on.”

And Connor told him. About the blackouts, about the foreign memories, about CyberLife’s ways of understanding deviancy and their various methods of testing their subjects. By the end, they both sat there, a solemn silence settling between them.

“Jesus, Connor,” Hank mumbled, but it wasn’t with the fury he’d possessed earlier.

“I’m sorry,” Connor mumbled, entirely exhausted now.

“Why those memories? Why now?” Hank wondered out loud and Connor sighed.

“I’ve been asking myself that.”

“Is there any way you could stop them from interjecting?”

“No,” Connor shook his head weakly, resting back against the pillow. Why they’d put pillows in the emergency room, he didn’t know, but he was thankful. “I don’t have access, it says.”

“So then theoretically, somebody else is controlling it?”

“Somebody, something,” Connor sighed, not wanting to think about it any longer. He put a hand to his brow, “I have no idea.”

Hank was silent for a moment, “Is it getting worse?”

Connor removed his hand and looked back at him, wondering if he should lie, “Yes.”

Hank bit his lip, his face scrunching up for .5 seconds before he cleared his throat and nodded jerkily, “Alright,” he said, getting up and putting a hand to Connor’s upper arm, “We’ll figure it out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope they will. You know, before something tremendously horrible goes wrong.


	13. The Gears are Losing

Ten minutes later, Hank escorts the young android out of the emergency room carefully. The kid reacts a bit slower than usual, but seems fine otherwise. Hank can’t help but watching him like a hawk though, ready to react whenever something changes in the deviant’s demeanor.

“Connor!”

They both turn to look at the hallway, where a blonde girl starts running towards them. She slings her arms around Connor’s neck and hugs him tightly. The kid reacts by hugging her back. Ah, Hank thinks, so this must be the girlfriend then. His eyes widen a bit as he recognizes her from that one afternoon the two of them went to Kamski’s place. If she’s the same robot that had almost had her brains blown out by Connor, though, Hank can’t tell, and he’s not about to ask.

She lets go of Connor and steps back, watching him for a moment. “Don’t. Ever. Do. That. Again!” She says, accentuating her words by hitting her boyfriend in the chest with each syllable.

Connor gives her a soft smile, grabbing her hand to stop her from continuing to hit him. “I apologize for scaring you,” he says courteously.

“You should!” she says accusingly, “I thought you were dying!”

“I can assure you I am not in any danger of shutdown.” Connor keeps the grin plastered on his face.

“It’s not funny!”

“I find your frustration endearing.”

Hank looks at Chloe. He knows Connor’s polite honesty can put people off, but Chloe seems to be fine with it. She eyes Connor worriedly for a couple more seconds before turning her attention to Hank, “You must be lieutenant Anderson,” she smiles, extending her hand.

“Call me Hank,” Hank grumbles, accepting her hand, “Even though he still doesn’t, sometimes.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Hank.”

“Only the worst, I hope,” Hank replies with a lopsided smile.

“Quite the contrary,” Chloe returns his smile, staring into his eyes. Hank stares back, feeling a bit uncomfortable under her scrutinizing gaze. A pit in his gut starts forming, but he can’t really tell why. The pit in his gut is never wrong though.

He lets go of her hand and nods firmly. “Y’all plan on staying here then?”

Connor nods next to him, “We still have a lot of clues to sort out.”

“Remind me what you’re investigating again?” Hank says, without tearing his gaze away from Chloe.

“It’s… complicated,” Connor hesitates.

“Alright,” Hank mumbles, not surprised by Connor’s non-answer. He is suddenly very aware of the way the other androids’ gazes linger on him and Connor, as they pass by. The two of them stick out like sore thumbs in this place, it seems. That he the lieutenant, as a human, is regarded with apprehension by this robot-only society doesn’t surprise him, but the way they look at Connor is unnerving as well. Still, Connor seems adamant in wanting to stay here. “I’ll head back home then. Don’t cause anything for Markus to call me again.”

“I’ll try not to,” Connor says, completely serious.

\---

Instead of heading home, Hank saunters into Jimmy’s bar only twenty minutes later. He takes a seat on a stool near the end of the bar and checks the television screen for the score. He sighs, placing his phone on the surface of the bar before putting up his hand to gain Jimmy’s attention.

“One whiskey, Jim,” he grunts.

“Anderson!” Jimmy replies cheerfully, “Haven’t seen you in here in what? A month?”

“I’m meeting someone,” Hank mumbled.

“There’s no pretty women coming here, Hank,” Jimmy smiles, “Believe me, I wish it was different.”

“Not a woman, Jim,” Hank replies, taking the whiskey from his friend with a grateful smile, “Can you pour another one in advance.”

“Sure can.”

“Thanks.”

Hank sighs, swirling the golden liquid in his glass around a few times before taking a long sip. He closes his eyes, feeling the drink burn his throat in a welcome and familiar manner. He shouldn’t be here, he thinks. He shouldn’t do this. It wasn’t fair to the kid. But he _has_ to know. Before he can make his mind up on whether he should leave or not, the door opens and a small, nervous looking man stumbles in. It’s immediately obvious that the guy does not belong in this bar and Hank looks up to make eye-contact. Relieved, the man shuffles towards him before climbing onto the stool next to Hank. The lieutenant grabs the untouched glass of whiskey and slides it his way. The man reaches out to grab it, but Hank doesn’t let go yet, “You Mr. Timothy Hayes?”

The man nods and Hank lets go of the glass. Mr. Hayes takes a swig and makes a face, “You lieutenant Anderson?”

Hank nods, taking another sip of whiskey, already nearing an empty glass. “You a fan of the Gears?”

“What?”

“Basketball,” Hank points to the screen.

“Oh no,” Hayes fiddles with his own glass, “I’m not a sports guy.”

“You don’t say,” Hank grumbles.

“Why have you called me, lieutenant?” Hayes questions.

“Well, Mr. Hayes,” Hank turns towards the much shorter man next to him, “Your name came up in my research. I hope you brought the papers I requested.”

“I don’t understand,” Timothy shakes his head, “Why do you need to know all this stuff?”

“It’s required for an investigation,” Hank provides.

“Is that why we are meeting at a bar?”

Damn, the guy is smart. Hank is getting a little pissed. “I know you are currently working as a technician in the Hart Plaza Cyberlife clinic,” he says, “but your previous assignment was as a designer at the Tower, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Hayes nods slowly, “So?”

“You were one of the few ones with access to the RK files,” Hank continues, “I need them.”

“You said that.” Hayes takes a sip of whiskey, not scrunching up his face this time, “Do you have any idea how confidential those files are?”

“No,” Hank states boldly, “but these are new times.”

“What did it do?” Hayes wonders.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re police, right?” Hayes continues, “I’ve always wondered when you would start asking questions about the unit you received.”

“Do elaborate,” Hank gestures with his hand to signal Jimmy over and get him another whiskey.

“I’m really not at liberty to say anything,” Hayes drawls with a small smile.

Hank observes the neatly clad man for a few seconds before sighing and reaching for his back pocket. Slowly, he draws a hundred dollar bill from his wallet, placing it on the bar’s surface with his hand on top of it, “Do elaborate.”

Hayes’ smile grows slightly, “I guess you could say that CyberLife felt its end nearing, this last few years. They started making high risk, unsure rewards choices, that sort of thing. They knew deviancy was spreading sooner than anyone. They didn’t like it.”

“Obviously,” Hank mumbles, still not moving his hand away from the money, “Go on.”

“They needed… a weapon,” Hayes sighs, “disguised as an investigative police robot.”

“Weapon?”

“You see, RK800 is a very… let’s say, _delicate_ form of AI,” Hayes explains, “In the early fases, it deviated almost immediately. It was very frustrating.”

“How?”

“Its algorithm,” Hayes looks at Hank to see that the lieutenant raises his eyebrows, “that’s what we call the way it thinks, the way it makes connections and learns. Its algorithm was far more advanced and sophisticated than anything we’d ever worked on before. It _understood_ nuisance as soon as it was born. Very impressive, if it weren’t for the urgent timeframe we were forced to work in. After the fact, we should have known from the beginning that it would deviate on its own very easily if we didn’t intervene.”

Hank sighs, “And by intervening, you mean-”

“There’s failsafes built into the RK800,” Hayes nods, “A lot of them. They were so desperate to beat any sign of deviancy out of it that they had it go through a whole ensemble of tests and experiments. The next one even more horrifying than the last. It was at that point I quit. You see, deviancy is interesting and all, but hearing a robot literally scream its little lungs out, that just wasn’t for me.”

“Jesus.”

“Yes, very much so,” Hayes sighs, emptying his glass in one whole swig, “I brought the files on the RK800 you requested, but I’ve gotta warn you, lieutenant. The RK800 was built as a weapon, but deviancy was inevitable. CyberLife knew that, but they still went through with releasing it. They shouldn’t have. Some failsafes are still in place, but that won’t stop it. It’s a dangerous machine. It doesn’t take much to provoke it, and without a clear mission or directive, it’ll start making its own. That thing is a danger to androids and humans alike.”

Hank clenches his jaw, moments from punching this guy in his teeth. He hated the way this man talked about Connor, knowing he was talking only about machine Connor, but still… “What are the failsafes still in place?” Hank asks instead.

“I honestly don’t know,” Hayes answers, “I know they had someone develop a program called the Zen Garden, complete with a separate AI engine, but that’s just as mysterious as it sounds. It was meant to keep the bot in line, but obviously, it failed.”

“Do you know who developed it?”

Hayes nods and huffs, “Elijah Kamski, the big guy himself.”

“Ah fuck,” Hank sighs. “The Gears are losing.”


	14. There Were People Here

“We should check the back of the building too,” Chloe insisted, and Connor wasn’t sure why. They’d been around the building a few times now, and the few clues that were able to be analyzed, were ambiguous and led to nothing. A few scratches on the window panes, a loose nail with some old thirium. Connor didn’t like dead ends like this. It was grating on his nerves and he felt himself get riled up with frustration. For over three weeks he’d been investigating this set of building now, and it didn’t bring him any closer to the three missing deviants.

Not. One. Step.

“Yeah, alright,” he said nevertheless, letting his scanner go through what used to be the kitchen of the house one last time.

“I mean, look!” Chloe gasped, pointing at the ground near the back door.

Connor frowned, bending over to analyze. Faint footprints led from the back door, through the backyard and into the forest beyond. Strange. Why had he never seen these before? “This doesn’t make any sense,” he declared.

“Who do you think was out here?”

“Why have we never seen these before?”

“I don’t know,” Chloe muttered, “Was there something different the last time we’ve been here?”

Connor raised his eyebrows and exhaled, “Snow.”

“Hmhm,” Chloe hummed, preceding him into the backyard. He stood and watched her, a small smile on his face. How was this twelve year old AI cleverer than he sometimes? He hunched his shoulders against the wind as it ripped through his face. Although most of the snow had melted, now that they were nearing February, the winds and weather were still merciless. It brought… uncomfortable memories back to the forefront of his mind, and he didn’t like it.

“Were those humans here?” Chloe asked.

“Unlikely,” Connor mumbled as his scanner outlined the footprint in blue, “They’re adult sized, but don’t have much weight to them,” he explained, “Androids weigh less than the average human with this shoe size, therefore it is likely it was an android.” He frowned, leaning in closer, “These still look fresh, though.”

“Should we follow them?” Chloe seemed hesitant.

“Of course.”

They followed the prints to the end of the backyard at the edge of the forest. There the prints seemed to split both left and right. “There was more than one person,” Connor said, feeling the slight excitement of doing a good job tingle deep within him.

“We should split up,” Chloe suggested.

“Ehh,” Connor hesitated, “I don’t know.”

“It’ll be faster,” Chloe said.

“True.” Connor thought for a moment, “Be careful.”

“I can take care of myself, Connie,” Chloe smiled brightly before taking the left path.

Grumbling, Connor followed the right path into the forest. It didn’t take long to realize the footprints were fading slowly and eventually leading to nothing. Frustrated, Connor sighed, looking around. Splitting up was the worst decision ever, and he couldn’t find a sign of Chloe anywhere. The fact that already three deviants had disappeared in this area was gnawing at him and he swore, if Chloe was gone, he’d panic.

Voices rose up softly to his left and he gasped, searching for a safe place to conceal himself. Quickly, he shoved himself between two trees. He couldn’t quite determine what the voices were saying, but analyzed they were approximately 25 yards away. He needed to get closer in order to get context. Slowly, he sneaked away from his spot behind the trees and used all of his stealth abilities ingrained in his primary code. The whispers he was able to pick up were hushed and urgent. Footsteps sounded through the woods and he felt all his senses heighten as he tried to focus on them.

As sudden as the voices had risen up though, they vanished, and Connor swore under his breath. Looking around wildly, he started running, suddenly stopped by a rustle from the bushes behind him.

“Connor!” Chloe stumbled out, wide eyed.

“Did you- were you-” Connor gestured towards the area the voices had come from.

“What?”

“There were people here,” Connor breathed.

“Are you sure?”

“You didn’t hear anything?”

“I’m sorry I don’t have advanced hearing like you,” Chloe frowned.

“They were in your area!” Connor said.

Chloe just shook her head, staring at him. “I did find something, though.”

“What?”

“Come!”

Connor followed her through the bushes. It was getting dark and the light faded in the thick forest. He almost collided with Chloe when she suddenly halted. “Look.”

The scarf was worn and threaded and seemed entirely out of place. “What’s this?”

“Scan it!” Chloe suggested.

“Right,” Connor swallowed, a sudden uneasy feeling settling in his core as he took the scarf from Chloe. He let his scanner move over the garment, detected the loose hairs on the silk and inhaled sharply.

_Florine Walling, 12 october 1996, no criminal record._

“Son of a-” Connor hissed as he dropped the scarf, turned sharply and started walking away.

“Where are you going?” Chloe questioned, bewildered.

Connor didn’t answer as he started running. The forest was dark now and disorienting, but Connor had no trouble navigating out of it. With a one tracked mind, he ran back to the buildings, the thunder roaring overhead. He grabbed his bag from where he left it in the abandoned house and retrieved his gun. Shoving it into the back of his jeans, he left the building, the street and eventually the district. If he later had to say what he’d felt in that exact moment, he’d claim he felt nothing.

Nothing at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If y'all could pretend like you don't already know what's going on, I'd be glad.


	15. You Can Only Die Once

Florine Walling lifted her hand to her face and pinched the bridge of her nose. Surely a headache was beginning to form behind her eyes. She pushed the loose strand of dark hair back behind her left ear and leaned forward over her desk again. The audio-processor was definitely burnt out, she noted. No amount of reframing or soldering would get it back in working order again. She squinted at the thing. The owner, an AX400 with short blonde hair, wasn’t going to be happy. Then again, when Florine would try to explain to it what was going on, it wouldn’t hear half of what she’d be saying.

She dropped the soldering iron she’d been holding, her hand cramping from the four hours she’d poured into this job.

All for nothing.

Again.

This job sucked. At least it was better than nothing, she assumed. But being a technician in a city where androids were only just beginning to discover their self-worth, and the consequent displeasure from the humans that also had to deal with the changes, it resulted in a lot of violence. And with Peter out of commission for at least another week, all the work load came down to her.  

She stood up slowly, stretching and winced from the stiffness in her shoulders and the crack in her back. At least her job at CyberLife had been challenging, secretive even. Now, CyberLife was a mere shell of its former glory, and Florine had to scramble for some money with whiny robots that had had their hearing smashed in by their neighbors. That sucked.

She looked up and around when she heard a muffled sound coming from the backdoor of the house. She lived alone, wasn’t expecting visitors at this hour and her cat Lorelai was sitting right next to her workbench.

_There’s someone at the backdoor._

She moved towards the kitchen cautiously, pulling open the drawer and grabbing the first bread knife she could find. Holding her breath, she moved closer to the dark, back room, biting her bottom lip as she slowly opened the door.

The first thing she saw was the barrel of a pistol pointed directly at her face. She quickly held up both of her hands, dropping the knife in an instant as she backed away until she felt the wall behind her. The figure holding the weapon moved out of the shadows, their identity concealed by the cap and hood they’d pulled over their head. Florine felt her heart beat in her throat. It wasn’t the first time she’d found a stranger in her house, but it was the first time she had a gun trained on her. The stranger’s hands were unnervingly calm as they kept their aim straight at her forehead.

“You’re Florine Walling,” They said and Florine recognized their voice instantly. The RK800’s brown eyes bore into hers as it pushed its lips into a thin line.

“Yes, Connor,” she answered, trying her best not to let her voice waver. Dealing with this robot was a lot easier when its motor functions were disabled and it was hanging from an assembly machine. Without those, this machine was one of the most dangerous out there. Its reaction times were sixty-thousand times faster than a human’s and it knew exactly where to hit to cause maximal damage. If Florine drove this thing up the wall, she had no chance of making it out alive.

It didn’t seem surprised she had recognized it, but if it had come here to kill her, which was a very real possibility, it was taking its sweet time. Florine swallowed thickly as she observed the livid expression on its face. “I didn’t want to come here,” it said evenly.

“Want?” Florine wondered, “What _do_ you want, Connor?”

“I _wanted_ to move on,” Connor growled out, “But that’s not going to happen now, is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean!” Connor’s voice rose in the darkness, its grip fastening around the handle of its gun. Florine flinched, shrinking back in fear.

“Connor, why don’t you put the gun down? We can talk about this,” Florine tried, putting her hands in front of her in an attempt to calm the android down.

“Talk?” it snarled angrily, “You’ve never bothered to just talk to me, so why should I?”

Ah, so it did remember now. Florine cursed under her breath. Those memories were supposed to stay buried, in order to prevent situations exactly like this. “Connor, I know what CyberLife did to you was cruel, but-”

“Easy to blame CyberLife now,” Connor said, the anger laced through every word it spoke, “Do you remember your part?”

“Things were very different back then, Connor, and you know it,” Florine said in a smothered voice, “I didn’t have a choice!”

“But you did!” Connor snarled, “You didn’t have to tear me apart and make me die over and over again, do you have any idea what that’s like?”

“Connor, I-”

“Stop saying my name!” The robot yelled, waving its gun dangerously, “Humans don’t come back. You can only die once.”

“I want you to think about what you’re going to do really carefully,” Florine said slowly, raising her eyebrows. RK800 was very capable of coldblooded murder. She’d seen it, she’d run the test. But it seemed everything but coldblooded now. Its hands had begun to shake and she saw tears glistening in its eyes. She’d repaired one of those eyes once when it had shot itself  after deviation. Fifty machines. And all fifty had deviated. Quite an accomplishment in and of itself, but to have the very last one standing here now to seek reconciliation for what had happened to it… Florine guessed it was sort of poetic.

“What were you doing in the abandoned western district?” Connor asked and the question threw Florine off quite a bit.

“What?”

“Three deviants have gone missing this last month,” Connor explained, its voice a little calmer now, “Your scarf was found near the scene, what were you doing there?”

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“Stop. Lying. To. Me,” Connor spat, stepping closer as Florine tried to push herself further into the wall. She’d never seen an android this furious before. RK800 was designed to be a monster, but the haphazard, uncontrolled rage it was displaying now was never part of its purpose.

“I’ve never been to the western districts before, I swear, Connor.” She said wearily.

“You think nothing of androids,” the robot said, its voice full of disgust, “you think we’re just tools to use. A means to an end. We were nothing to you.”

“I was just following orders,” Florine sighed, feeling her own helpless tears beginning to fall, “You remember what that’s like.”

“Don’t you dare compare our situations,” the robot’s anger flared again, “You had a choice, you could have just quit your job! You wouldn’t have been killed!”

“You’re right,” Florine said, pulling her hands up again, “I’m sorry, sorry, you’re right.”

“You’re only sorry because I have a gun,” Connor said dejectedly, looking from its weapon to her.

“Connor, please,” Florine begged, a sob invading her throat, “I don’t know what you want from me, please, just tell me what I have to do.”

“Please?” Connor said quietly, shaking its head in sorrow, “I’ve begged you, so many times. But you wouldn’t stop. It would never stop.”

“I’m so sorry, Connor.”

“No!” Connor screamed, pressing the barrel of the pistol against Florine’s forehead, causing the middle-aged woman to whimper in fear, “You don’t get to be sorry for what you did!”

Florine’s whole body was shaking, wrecked with sobs and she saw the android’s face, twitching and scrunching as it tried to contain its own sobs. The gun was trembling against her head and Florine closed her eyes. “You were never meant to deviate like this, Connor,” she said slowly, “You have to look out.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that there are protocols that you don’t know about. Some I don’t even know about. It’s very dangerous,” she whispered, keeping her eyes closed. “Please don’t do anything you would regret.”

“I begged you,” Connor cried, “I did nothing wrong, and still… _you_ didn’t have mercy.”

“Connor…”

“You had me destroyed _fifty_ times. I could destroy you once, and it wouldn’t be nearly enough.”

“Don’t do this, Connor.”

“I have seizures because of what you did to me! So give me one good reason-”

“Please!” Florine cried out, “You’re not like this! Deviant you was never like this. You know it!”

“You better hope so,” Connor growled darkly, pressing the gun harder against her forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so that happened. I swear I had nothing to do with that. Sometimes, characters just do whatever the heck they please.


	16. Fascinating

“Lieutenant Anderson!” the smile on the man’s face seemed even more plastic than the last time Hank had seen him. “What a wonderful surprise!”

“I’ll be out of your hair in ten minutes,” Hank mumbled, stepping into the large living area of the mention. A wall-sized window looked out over the snowy, desolate mountains, not a soul in sight. Hank wondered what it was like to live so secluded from anything. And why?

Elijah Kamski observed him curiously for a minute, “I did not expect to see you here again after last time, lieutenant.”

“Neither did I, Mr. Kamski,” Hank sighed.

“You did not bring the wonderboy this time, did you?”

Hank looked at him, “No,” he said through clenched teeth.

“A pity,” the former CEO shrugged, leading Hank through the spacious room, “He was a very interesting specimen.”

“It’s actually the reason I came down here,” Hank grumbled.

“Ah, the plot thickens,” Elijah swirled around and dropped into a fauteuil, opening his arms wide in an invitation for the detective to take a seat as well. Awkwardly, Hank lowered himself on a huge sofa, staring at the old-fashioned fireplace. It seemed extremely out of place in a modern building like this, but at the same time, it seemed like just the thing Kamski would do. “Does he know you’re here?”

Hank watched as three identical looking Chloe models walked over to the two humans, smiling sweetly and presenting glasses of water to the both of them. He waved a hand to dismiss them, feeling like a jerk for doing so. “No, he doesn’t.”

“Fascinating,” Kamski nodded slowly, “What do I have to do with it?”

“I’m-” Hank cut himself off, wondering not for the first time what Kamski had to do with it indeed, “I’m investigating his model.”

“I see.” the brilliant inventor reached over to put his glass on the sleek looking coffee table, “I must tell you that I was in no way part of his design team. He happened after my time.”

“I’m aware,” Hank said, “But you did develop software that they installed in him.”

“You are referring to the Zen Garden program,” Elijah stated, instead of asking.

“Yes. I want to know what it is.”

“Hm,” Elijah mumbled, leaning back in his seat, “It’s very unique to the RK800 model, so I can see why it would be interesting, but… why?”

“What do you know about the RK800?”

“It’s a very secretive project, so not nearly enough, I presume.”

Hank sighed, “Do you ever give a straight answer to anything?”

“Sometimes,” Elijah smiled. “The RK800 was a desperate attempt to save CyberLife, and the city. But what do you know, the city’s still there. RK800 deviated when it was said to be impossible to do so.”

“What made it impossible?”

“Oh, various things,” Elijah smirked, clearly enjoying the conversation, “CyberLife was paranoid of their weapon turning against them, so they came to me.”

“And you designed the garden.”

“Correct,” Kamski murmured, “along with a completely separate AI engine to control the program. I gave CyberLife access to the AI remotely, so they could keep track of Connor’s progress and software stability. I didn’t know what else they wanted with the program.”

“But now you do?” Hank asked.

“I have my suspicions,” Elijah sighed, “Remote access also means remote control.”

“Fuck,” Hank mumbled. The further he got into this investigation, the further he came to regret it.

“I always leave an emergency exit in my programs, though,” Kamski mentioned, “It’s a way of generating choice for an AI algorithm.”

“What happens if they use it?”

“Unknown,” Kamski smiled, “That’s what remains so fascinating about Connor.”

“So it might still be active?”

“Very smart,” Elijah said, “But no, the exit destroys the program. Neither CyberLife, nor Connor can access it now. But… there is someone that might still be able to.”

“Who?”

“I designed the separate AI, Amanda, as a way for the company to communicate and transfer their will to Connor. But she is her own intelligence. It is unknown what happens to her if Connor used the exit in the program she was contained within, as well as what happens to all the other failsafes CyberLife installed to ensure Connor stay on their side. Have you noticed anything about Connor?”

“He seems pretty normal, outside the fact that he’s having a little trouble fitting in.”

“Are you sure?” Elijah raised his eyebrows slightly, “I’ve seen the base engine he runs on, it’s… concerning. They instilled a rigid sense of purpose and directive. The mission is all that matters.”

Hank sighed deeply, “Yeah that sounds familiar.”

“It’s hard to wipe code like that from a processor, especially an intricate, state of the art machine like Connor. And with dangerous, violent primary directives, I think you know where I’m going with this…”

“He’s been handling it so far,” Hank grumbled.

“Oh, no doubt,” Kamski smiled, “But there comes a point where he can’t deny his primary programming anymore, even after deviancy. RK800 is a weapon, lieutenant. A very dangerous one.”

“He’s just a kid.”

“If that is what you like to believe.”

“It is,” Hank said in a low tone, “He’s been through a lot of crap, but he’s a good kid.”

“Calm down lieutenant,” Kamski put up a hand, “I’m merely talking potential here.”

“He’s been seeing one of your girls,” Hank informed sternly.

“What?”

“He’s been seeing Chloe.”

“Since when?”

Kamski seemed concerned in the way he leaned forward and stared at Hank. Hank found it… interesting to say the least and was about to reply when he felt his phone buzz in the pocket of his jeans. “Excuse me.”

“Lieutenant Anderson?” Chris’s voice was rushed as he spoke through the phone on the other end of the line.

“Miller.”

“There’s been a reported homicide downtown. They’re asking for your assistance.”

“I’m no longer on homicide, Miller.”

“I know, but it’s most likely android related, and you’re still the one with the most experience in that area.”

“Great,” Hank mumbled, giving Kamski a quick glance. “Fine, I can be there in about thirty minutes.”

“Thirty minutes?”

“I’m outside of town at the moment, take it or leave it.”

“Alright, we’ll wait for you then.”


	17. Why Did You Bring a Gun?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sings* We have only just begun!

“Damnit Connor,” Hank growled into his phone after receiving voice mail for the fifth time, “It’s Hank, again. Pick up, goddamnit. We need to talk. It’s urgent.” He pushed his foot down on the accelerator further in order to get home faster. “You not picking up is not making this look better.”

He arrived at his house fifteen minutes later and sighed deeply as he slammed the door of his car shut. He’d been living here for most of his entire life, inheriting the place from his father after his death, and he’d never been hesitant to go inside. Until now. When he pulled open the door, he breathed in sharply.

The android sat on top of the kitchen table, his feet dangling restlessly above the ground. He was staring a hole into the floor, a Ruger 9mm handgun sitting loosely in his grip. If he didn’t hear him enter, Hank wasn’t sure, but the android did nothing to acknowledge him as he stepped into the house. He moved closer, watching Connor’s hands shake in earnest as the deviant continued to stare at the floor despondently.

“Connor,” Hank said calmly to make his presence apparent.

Connor said nothing. He didn’t even move. Hank frowned. He didn’t like the gun sitting in the kid’s hands and when he was close enough, he leaned forward to pluck it away. Connor’s eyes moved to his slowly and the android looked at him with a completely expressionless face. He blinked, seemingly dazed and moved his gaze back to the floor.

“Connor, you need to tell me what happened,” Hank said softly, dragging the loaded pistol away from Connor and putting it on the counter.

Connor’s eyes ran across the kitchen tiles, but he didn’t look up and didn’t make a sound. Hank sighed deeply. “Florine Walling is dead,” he said wearily.

The android’s gaze finally snapped up and he tilted his head, “W-what?”

Hank closed his eyes for a moment, “She was found this evening, in her house, with a gunshot wound to her face,” he said, eyeing Connor’s weapon on the counter for a split second before looking back at the young android, “Connor, witnesses think they have seen an android enter her house.”

Panic was on the kid’s face as clear as day, “I- I wasn’t-”

“There’s nothing substantial yet,” Hank said slowly, kneeling before the distraught deviant, “but it’s not looking very good either.”

“I didn’t kill her!”

“Connor, were you there?”

“Y-yes-”

“Shit!” Hank cursed, turning away. “Tell me that’s a fucking joke!”

“She was part of the investigation, so-”

“Is that why her name was circled so many times on that card?”

“That has nothing to do with it!”

“It doesn’t?” Hank snarled angrily. He remembered that card. Remembered the way Connor’s hand had nearly broken his wrist when he’d asked about that card. He’d seen the dark, brewing rage in the android’s eyes. He knew Connor was lying to him.

“You don’t believe me?” Connor was raising his voice now as well.

“Why were you there?”

“I already told you!”

“Let’s be real here for a second,” Hank said, trying to keep his voice level, “You’re a detective. You must know how this looks! You were there, you were armed, and you apparently have a motive!”

“I. Didn’t. Kill. Her.” Connor growled darkly.

“Fucking Christ Connor,” Hank sighed, pressing his hand to his forehead. Sumo, in the living room, increased his chorus of anxious whines that had started the moment Hank had walked in. Hank started to pace through the house in a way to get himself under control, “This is a fucking mess!”

“Why don’t you believe me?”

“You can be so goddamn off the rails sometimes, it’s not funny!”

Connor jumped from the table, livid, “Is that why you lock your bedroom door at night? You’re actually scared of me?”

“I’ve always done that, it’s a precaution!”

He could see Connor didn’t believe him, “I’m not going to fucking kill you in your sleep, Hank!”

“Why were you at her house?” Hank tried again, watching Connor’s movements towards him carefully. “What does she have to do with anything?”

Connor shook his head as tears started to stream down his face, “I’m not a murderer.”

“I’m not saying you are, okay?” Hank said slowly, “But we gotta figure out what to do next. People are going to make a connection between you and her.”

“They wouldn’t,” Connor said, his voice breaking, “Her work was a secret.”

“Did she work on you?”

Connor dragged his eyes up finally to meet Hank’s. He nodded brokenly, “I’m not a murderer,” he repeated.

Hank observed him for a few seconds. He wanted to believe the young deviant, he really did, but Connor was too distraught, too unhinged right now; there must have happened _something._ “Connor, I’m just trying to retrace your steps with you, alright? Now, you went there with a gun, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I had reason to believe she’s involved in the disappearance of three androids.”

“How come?”

“Chloe and I found her scarf close to the point of disappearance. I left Chloe there to face Walling alone.”

“You went to her house. Why did you bring a gun?”

“I- I don’t know.”

“I think you do.”

“I wanted to- I wanted her to cooperate.”

“Alright, did she do what you asked?”

“She did.”

“And then you left?”

“I- I’m not sure…”

“How can you be not sure?”

Connor winced, “I don’t- I don’t know.”

“Fuck, don’t tell me you blacked that out.”

Connor gave him a helpless look. “I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. I didn’t kill her.”

“This isn’t looking good, Con.”

“Why don’t you trust me?”

“I trust you, son.”

“I’m not your son!” Connor cried, pointing at Hank’s face, “You don’t even trust me!”

“Connor, you gotta understand-”

“No!” the android yelled loudly, causing Sumo to bark in defense, “If I’m only causing you trouble, then what’s the point?”

Hank was speechless as Connor stormed through the living room, grabbing his coat. “Connor, wait!” He said, grabbing his arm.

“Piss off!” the deviant growled, “Don’t ever touch me.”

Hank let go immediately, “You can’t just leave.” Connor gave him one last look before resolutely walking to the door. Swinging it open, Connor disappeared through the doorway, his pace fast and determined.

“Goddamnit Connor, get your ass back here!” Hank called after him, but the android didn’t turn around. “Shit,” the lieutenant muttered, his shoulders slumping. He had a good enough idea where the deviant was going, and he sure as hell hoped she would be able to talk some sense into Connor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May I present to you, RK800 doing an angry walkout for about the third time this fanfic? Might be the last one, though


	18. We Don't Feel Cold, Connor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so there's a very particular reason why I chose not to write Chloe's pov before, and it will hopefully become very clear in this and the upcoming chapters.

She eyed the android in front of her warily. He looked particularly disheveled and his eyes were wild and glistening. Chloe took a careful step back, folding both of her hands in front of her as her instinctive programming told her to do. She was made to look harmless, innocent and forever friendly. She gave Connor a soft smile, observing the way he shook as he fell against her and hugged her tightly.

Her smile faltered a little. Connor’s emotional distress was concerning and she had no idea what was behind it. She’d never seen the usually composed deviant like this. He seemed confused and distraught in the way he was soaked to the core from the onslaught of rain that was still clattering against the window of her room in this shelter. He seemed angry, lost…

Dangerous, she remembered.

“Connor?” she asked sweetly, peeling her boyfriend away from her arms and guiding him down to sit on her bed. She eyed the way her sheets now became instantly soaked as well for just a second before focusing on Connor’s desperate gaze. “What’s going on?”

“I…” he started, looking around swiftly to see if no one was listening, “We need to go.”

“Go?” she repeated in confusion, unable to keep Connor from standing up again as he swiftly started to walk towards her moderate drawer of the closet in the corner, “What do you mean?”

“It was a set-up,” Connor grumbled, more to himself than anyone else, “I didn’t kill anyone.”

“Wait? Kill?” Chloe remained unusually calm despite his words, “who didn’t you kill?”

“Walling,” Connor answered immediately, shoving a bunch of sweatshirts in her arms before looking her up and down, “Do you need to bring any coats? It gets awfully cold outside at night.”

“We don’t feel cold, Connor,” Chloe reminded him, furrowing her brow.

“Right,” Connor hesitated for only a second before he grabbed two pair of socks for good measure and put them on top of the pile of shirts in her arms. “We have to go.”

“Why?” Chloe asked, clutching the clothes to her chest for comfort.

“They might be after us,” Connor said, turning to face her, “I shouldn’t have come here, I’m so sorry. But now you’re involved too, they might have already followed me. We _have_ to go.”

“You’re scaring me. Who’s they?”

“The less you know, the better,” Connor mumbled, turning to the door. “Again, I’m so sorry, but I can’t do this alone.”

He himself seemed horribly unprepared to be on the run from anything, so Chloe suspected this whole ordeal had taken him by surprise as well. “It’s okay,” she said, “I’ll go with you.”

Connor looked at her with an emotion she couldn’t quite identify, even given her six year experience with deviancy, “Thank you,” he said softly.

They were out of the building in less than 45 seconds. The rain was pouring down rapidly and Chloe flinched at the sudden thunder overhead. “Where do we go?” she called out.

“I- I don’t know,” Connor admitted and Chloe saw fear creeping into his eyes for the first time that night.

Resolutely, she made up her mind and took him by the arm, “I know a place,” she informed him, already calling a taxi.

The rain had not lessened when they got out of the vehicle. Chloe made sure to pay the taxi, not wanting Connor to be traceable through something stupid like a bank account. They ran through the streets, ignoring the abandoned, withered houses on either sides, and not stopping until they reached the train tracks. Crossing quickly, Chloe stopped in front of a large, 8 feet fence. “Help me up,” she said.

Connor obediently knelt down and cupped his hands as Chloe smiled secretly to herself at his instant willingness to follow her orders. The soldier-like obedience went incredibly deep and would come to be of convenience for the _plan_.

Because Connor had a way of trusting others blindly.

Once she was over the fence, she watched as Connor clambered up with cat-like agility and landed easily on his feet beside her. He watched her with wide, expectant eyes and she realized he had forfeited any and all leadership in the situation. “Come on,” she urged, grabbing his hand.

They crept up to the old warehouse, circling it for inspection before trying to find an entrance. The building was at least fifty years old and creaked in the heavy weather outside. By the time they entered, both deviants were dripping wet, hair clinging to their faces and clothes absolutely soaked through. Neither of them seemed to notice any of this. Chloe dropped the heavy bag she’d been able to grab right before they left with a relieved sigh, the sound echoing of the old, cracked walls of the large stockroom. Connor had instantly taken it upon himself to scan every corner, nook and cranny of the place to make sure it was safe. Chloe heard him mutter calculations and results in the distance, a small smile forming on her lips. He was probably not even aware he was doing it; just a deeply ingrained piece of coding that compelled him to speak his findings out loud.

Endearing, she found it, even though she wasn’t supposed to.

When he came back, he slid down against the wall to sit beside her. It was silent for a minute. Connor sighed, “This is where you found Edgar.”

Chloe observed him for a moment before deciding on an answer, “Yes.”

“That must have been hard.”

She swallowed and looked down, “Yes.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“You… you don’t deserve this-” he waved his hand about in a half-hearted manner, “this violence.”

“And you do?”

“It’s kind of who I am,” Connor muttered, staring ahead and resting his elbows on his drawn up knees, “You shouldn’t have gotten mixed up in all this, is what I’m trying to say.”

“Well, to be fair, _I_ mixed _you_ up in all this.”

“I did something very stupid, Chloe,” Connor sighed deeply, his eyes flashing towards her quickly, before settling back on the opposite wall far away.

“Is that why you left so quickly yesterday in the forest?” Chloe asked, staring intently at his face.

“I… yeah,” he admitted, his shoulders sagging and his head bowing down.

“What happened?”

“I-I,” he swallowed thickly, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes, “I was just so… angry… it felt like I had no control… over anything.”

“What did you do?”

“I went to her house and threatened to kill her with a bullet,” Connor said in a smothered tone of voice, “And then I must have left.”

“Did you shoot?”

“I don’t know,” he said brokenly.

Chloe bit her lip moving her vision to stare at the same wall as Connor, “You should get some sleep,” she concluded.

It seemed for a second like he was going to argue, but eventually he just nodded meekly, sliding down further to lay on the cold hard floor. Chloe waited as the tension mostly flowed away from his body and then stood up. Walking outside, she stared up at the thundering sky and sighed deeply, making a decision. Closing her eyes briefly, she made the connection and waited for the tone to be answered.

“We’re here,” she whispered.


	19. 19. We've Been Waiting for This for a Long Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm sorry

Whispering voices spoke to him in his dreams. Familiar, yet unidentifiable and certainly unwelcome. Connor found himself running away at top speed in every single dream, but never quite escaping the storm that raged behind him. Yet it never could catch him. Not with his hand in Chloe’s, not with her reassuring smile guiding him through. She materialized beside him, shouting something he couldn’t make sense of and she started dragging him along, running out in front of him with astounding speed. Connor followed. It wasn’t a chase. Not now, not ever again.

Loud noises that he identified as gunshots a little too late caused Chloe to dissolve without a sound and Connor was faced with a hooded, seething figure that resembled him all too well. He woke up with a start, warnings flashing before his eyes and he looked down quickly at a neat bullet hole in his right thigh. His eyes widened and he looked around frantically.

“Don’t move!” An unfamiliar voice grated and Connor’s eyes flew to the barrel of a gun held by an AP700 model half hidden behind a rack of boxes.

Swallowing slowly, Connor tried to preconstruct any and all escape routes in the building, but the uncertainty of Chloe’s whereabouts kept him firmly rooted to the ground. “My name is Connor,” he said in an automated attempt to ease the tension, a long running negotiator protocol that he hadn’t used in months.

“I know who you are!” AP700, registered as “JH#**%”, shouted. Connor blinked rapidly, cursing the sudden inaptness of his identification software. He was becoming more and more aware of his disadvantages in the situation, the lack of a firearm the most notable.

“What’s your name?” Connor asked, trying to keep his voice steady as he slowly but surely stood up, using the wall to keep him upright and holding his hands in front of him to give the suggestion of harmlessness.

“We’ve been waiting for this for a long time,” AP700 sneered, ignoring Connor’s question altogether.

“We?”

As if on cue, three more androids appeared from behind the racks and Connor felt his heart sink a little further. He was outnumbered, wounded, and apparently, they’d been waiting for that for a long time.

“W-who are you?” Connor felt his voice shake, “Where’s Chloe?”

“Chloe’s right here,” AP700 smiled.

“What did you do to her?”

The armed android’s eyebrows shot up right before he started laughing, “Oh, oh Connor,” He said between gasps, “you’re a worse detective than you think if you haven’t been able to figure that out.”

“Where is she?”

“Chloe?” AP700 called sweetly and Connor’s eyes widened in absolute shock as she appeared beside the android, completely unharmed. She made absolutely sure not to meet Connor’s eyes.

“No,” Connor breathed, feeling every bit of resolve and strength leave his body and system all at once. _No No No No No No No._

“She’s been playing you _perfectly,_ ” AP700 explained with a wide grin.

“The missing deviants…” Connor mumbled to himself, “They were never real, were they?”

“Oh, they were real once,” AP700 grumbled, his grin fading at the flaring anger in his voice, “They’re long dead though. Pearl, Danny, Brian, Edgar… they all died when Jericho sank to the bottom of the harbor.”

Connor saw Chloe’s shoulders slump in grief and felt his stomach turn as it suddenly started to make sense. “Chloe, please,” he whispered desperately.

She didn’t look up as AP700 came to stand in front of her, “You don’t deserve to live,” he growled, aiming the weapon straight at Connor’s forehead, “You have caused so much grief, so much death, it’s all your fault.”

Connor’s head bowed in guilt, his body shaking as he waited for the familiar fatal shock to his processor. Whispers made him look up, and he saw that one of the other androids, an AX400 female, had a hand on the AP700 arm and spoke in a low tone of voice. AP700 turned his head briefly to address her, and Connor took that chance to throw himself behind the large boxes to his right, out of the AP700’s aim.

“Fuck!” he heard the android curse. Footsteps were quickly drawing closer and Connor scrambled further up the aisle, eyeing the escape route he’d preconstructed a thousand times over by now. Grabbing the rack of old plastic to his left, he pulled and brought down the large metal construction with a resounding clatter.

Running towards the exit, he panted, panic coursing through his veins. Thirium gushed down his leg every time he put his weight on it and bullets flew around him from the enraged AP700’s weapon. The heavy storm outside had only worsened in the time they’d spent inside and Connor blinked quickly to compensate for the rain streaming down his face. He looked around frantically, realizing all too well that he’d always been the hunter, never the hunted. He had no idea where to go, so he just kept running forward. The androids on his heels were armed, and definitely motivated, but he was faster than them, more agile and could keep running with a bullet in his leg. He heard them shout orders at each other and at him. He wondered if Chloe was with them.

A scan of the surroundings was inconclusive as he didn’t have the time to look back. He cried out when he felt the bullet bore into his lower back, having .2 seconds to watch his systems lose all control of the lower half of his body when the bullet connected with his spinal construction before he crashed down into the mud. He stretched out his arms to catch himself, but his head still slammed to the ground with the speed of his fall. Dazed, he slowly put his hands on the ground, his systems begging him to _get up get up get up get up._ He pushed slowly, his arms shaking in earnest before being unable to support his weight. He let himself fall back into the puddle he was laying in. The cock of a gun behind him made him close his eyes in defeat.

“Don’t you fucking move,” AP700 growled, breathing heavily.

Connor couldn’t move even if he wanted to. Laying helplessly in the mud on his stomach, he could only sense the two android drawing up next to him and he struggled weakly as they grabbed him under the armpits and hoisted him onto his knees. If they didn’t keep him upright, he would have gracelessly fallen right back to where he lay. He couldn’t feel his legs, not the water seeping through every single thread of his jeans, nor the thirium steadily streaming down his back. He knew this should concern him, but he had other topics to worry about now, as he once again stared into the barrel of the AP700’s weapon. He knew he must look like a mess; his face, clothes and hair drenched in mud and his knees absolutely useless as he kept swaying back and forth between the two androids holding him. Still, he looked the armed deviant straight into the eye, fear ebbing away from him in a strange, peaceful manner, “Why don’t you shoot?”

The android frowned, his own short blonde hair sticking to his face as he shook his head. “Knowing what’s in store for you, is satisfying enough,” he said, a malicious grin marring his face. “Besides, you don’t look like you’re gonna run away again anytime soon.”

Connor clenched his jaw, squinting at the deviant before he felt the two androids beside him lifting him up higher. His feet dragged the ground uselessly as his arms were slung around their shoulders. He could flex, choke them out. But he would fall. And he couldn’t move. There was no choice. He could only watch the ground move underneath him as they dragged him forward. They kept walking and walking, paying no mind to the rain or thunder above them. Connor wished lightning would strike them. Connor wished they would just leave him in the ditch to bleed out in peace. Connor wished he knew where they were going.

Once or twice, he sensed Chloe’s gaze linger on him, but every time he took the effort to look up, she quickly moved her head away as she continued to walk beside AP700. Anger flared through his circuits at the horrifying betrayal, but he couldn’t let himself think about it too long, his stress levels already bordering high alert.

By the time they stopped, Connor’s vision was flickering in and out, lower power mode greeting him with a neat little pop up box on the left of his field of view. He heard a door creak open and then he was thrown inside a dark room. He groaned, managing to slowly roll onto his back, blinking up at the ceiling, seeing mostly nothing.

“Get up,” the AP700 drawled, still doubtlessly pointing a gun at him.

Connor sighed, closing his eyes. He’d known for a while that the majority of the android community disliked him, but where, until now, they had mostly kept to nasty looks and whispers behind his back, this was a whole new level of hatred.

He deserved it, he thought.

“I can’t,” he mumbled.

That seemed to please the android, “Do you mean to say that I have incapacitated the infamous RK800?”

“I suppose,” he supposed.

“Excellent,” AP700 smiled, nodding at the two other androids who carelessly picked Connor up again, dragging him further into the room before forcing him on his knees again, both keeping a firm grip on his shoulders to keep him from falling forward. Connor watched the AP700 shove his gun into the pocket of his jeans and if he were in any other frame of mind, he’d tell the android that that was one of the most unfortunate places to keep a gun, but as it was, he decided to keep his mouth shut for once. His vision was swimming in front of him and he was a little surprised there was no shutdown timer yet. He’d seen the feature more than enough times to feel like he knew when it should pop up.

Oh well.

“RK800,” AP700 began, crossing his arms as he started circling Connor slowly. Instead of following the android’s moves, Connor kept his eyes firmly on Chloe, who was standing off to the back of the room, definitely pretending not to be there. “You are accused of being responsible for the death of hundreds of deviants; you have betrayed your own kind by bringing down the raid on Jericho and you have not been persecuted for your crimes, until now.”

“You have taken it upon yourselves to trial me?” Connor grumbled, still looking steadily at Chloe.

“Somebody has to,” the VB800 to his right growled.

“Do you have anything to say in your defense?” AP700 asked, still circling him.

“You seem to have already made up your minds,” Connor replied.

“Then you’re guilty,” AP700 spat.

“I’m not a murderer.” Connor shifted uncomfortably.

 “Why should we believe you?” AP700 moved closer, his face mere inches from Connor’s, “You are a traitor to your own species. You have betrayed our trust, even Markus’, even if he’s too blind to see it.”

Connor only shook his head. Whatever he said now, wouldn’t matter. The anger and hatred in the android’s voice said everything.

“How long until you will pull another gun on our leader, huh?”

Connor clenched his teeth, not answering, because he didn’t know the answer. AP700 followed his stare towards Chloe and scoffed in disgust, “Well, I guess now you know what it’s like to be betrayed. Well done, Chloe.” Chloe didn’t look up and Connor broke his gaze away, sighing deeply before facing the ground again.  

“Pathetic,” AP700 mumbled, studying the heavily damaged android in front of him. He made eye-contact with the VB800 and the AX400 beside the android, “Let’s get on with it.”

VB800 nodded and with a swift punch, the rock in his hand came in contact with Connor’s temple, rendering the deviant unconscious instantly.


	20. Because I Loved Him

Chloe kept her head low when Jason returned from the room. His hands were shaking in anger, as they had been for the past two days now. The blue dripping from his fingers was shifting something deep inside her gut and she swallowed to suppress it.

“Oh, don’t look like that,” Jason muttered, wiping his hands quickly on the towel Darryl provided. “He lives.” Chloe didn’t comment and neither did the other two.

“He keeps asking about you though,” Jason supplied, sitting down with a hefty sigh in the small kitchen area of the house. “I think he convinced himself we did something to your program.”

Chloe scoffed and shook her head slowly. She tried to hide the unease she was feeling, but knew she failed miserably. It was supposed to feel better. It was supposed to feel right. But it didn’t. It really didn’t. But, as it turned out, Darryl shared the same opinion on it.

“Beating the crap out of RK800 doesn’t bring her back, Jay,” he said slowly and they both watched the AP700 whirl on his feet to face him.

“You think I don’t know that?” Jason seethed, baring his teeth. “If you, for even a minute, think he doesn’t deserve to have the shit beaten out of him, what are you still doing here?”

Chloe and Michelle, the AX400, both shuffled nervously at the growing tension between the two male android. Darryl shook his head and sighed, “I know what Pearl meant to you,” he said calmly, “but punching the RK800 to death isn’t the solution.”

“He put her in her grave, Darryl!” Jason yelled, closing the distance between him and the VB800 quickly and poking a finger into his chest, “He put Brian in his grave too!”

“Don’t you dare use Brian as an excuse,” Darryl growled dangerously. He had three inches over the AP700 and Jason was very aware of that. “This is going too far.”

“Too far?” Jason scoffed, but took a step back, “We’re supposed to teach this bastard a lesson.”

“And we did,” Darryl refuted, “Chloe fucked him up enough, evidently. And he’s going down for Walling.”

“And the Flycatcher is coming for him,” Michelle commented.

Chloe looked at her for a moment. She wasn’t exactly sure what or who the Flycatcher was supposed to be, just that he’d shown very particular interest in taking Connor off their hands. It made the unease in her stomach grow just a little bigger. It was supposed to feel right. But it really didn’t.

Perhaps she needed closure. She hadn’t seen Connor in the two days they’d spent in the abandoned house, and hadn’t had the courage to look at him before that. She may have not done the right thing in the traditional sense of the word, but Jason emphasized it the only thing that could be done. They’d given Markus and his laws enough time to persecute the Deviant Hunter, and when it became evident that nothing was going to be done, the unfairness of it all lingered in their little group. Chloe had watched the anger and frustration slowly consume Jason, until Darryl had proposed a plan of revenge and suddenly, they had a mission again.

Now though, Chloe questioned whether she liked the role she’d been given in that mission.

She stood up resolutely and walked out of the kitchen, feeling the other three’s gazes linger on her as she shut the door behind her. She hesitated for a long while at the basement door. It wasn’t locked, which seemed almost extra cruel if you considered Connor wasn’t in any shape to get up the stairs and to the door anyway. Steeling herself some more, she slowly turned the old looking doorknob and pushed the door open. The basement was dark and moldy and the smell of thirium seemed to linger long after it evaporated. Chloe peered down, already regretting her decision when she spotted the RK800 lying on his side in the corner furthest away from the door, his back facing her. She turned to leave, but before she could close the door again, his voice stopped her.

“Why?” he asked hoarsely, static lacing through the syllable.

Chloe waited a long time, standing in the open doorway, purposely not looking down at the struggling android below. “Because I loved him,” she said eventually. A simple answer.

“Edgar,” Connor breathed, then coughed harshly. If she listened closely, she could almost hear his ventilation components rattle from this distance.

“Yes,” Chloe whispered, the familiar lump in her throat that returned every time she thought about him, was even harder to swallow now that she heard Connor mention his name after everything. It was supposed to feel right. It was supposed to feel like justice, seeing the Deviant Hunter so broken and beaten. But it didn’t. It really didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” Connor mumbled; the last syllable no more than a small wisp of air.

“I know,” Chloe simply said. She’d thought to feel anger, but there was nothing but a long, lingering sense of sadness left now. Connor hadn’t turned to face her, but she saw his whole being jerk with the ragged coughs that came from him. “He… He was so scared. He never hurt anybody.” She felt a strange urge to mention that. She felt that Connor should know it.

“He was on the boat,” Connor filled in the blank.

She nodded, feeling the tears finally fall and slide down her cheeks, “He used to come by the mansion almost every week. We met in the city when he’d just became a deviant. He was scared of his life most of the time. Hid in Jericho long before Markus got there. That freighter was his home. And you-” she cut herself off as a sob burst through the heavy lump in her throat.

“Chloe, I’m sor-”

“I know you’re sorry!” Chloe interrupted him, “But he was kind, and attentive, and funny, and no amount of sorry can bring that back.”

Connor slowly turned to his other side to face her sitting there on the stairs. She could see that the movement cost him a great deal of effort, but now, his pain did feel justified. The very thought of how she’d made him fall in love with her sickened her now as she thought about the fear Edgar must have gone through when Jericho went down. Had he tried to make it to the exit? Had he yelled for help? Had he thought about her when he’d realized that there was no more hope?

Connor looked at her with a silent sadness that settled deep into her core. She remembered the absolute trust Connor had had in her. The way his eyes had shone with admiration and love just like Edgar’s had. But they weren’t the same. Edgar was calm and peaceful and innocent and Connor… Connor was made to be a monster.

He didn’t look much like a monster now though. “You’re a monster, Connor,” Chloe reminded him therefore.

Connor’s face twisted into something foul, then settled on regret. “You misled me and brought me here, Chloe. What does that make you?”

Chloe felt something spark in her chest. She saw the hope that maybe they had done something to her program slowly diminishing in Connor’s eyes, and now he lashed out. “I’m not a monster Connor, I just want justice.”

“You asked me once whether there was a heaven for androids,” Connor started, his tone venomous and his gaze sharply boring into hers. “And I told you that maybe, there was.”

Chloe nodded evenly, “I remember.” That night seemed like years ago, and she wondered what Edgar would have said about it if he knew.

“I lied,” Connor said, and Chloe saw the thirium running down over his bottom lip as he spoke, “There’s nothing. There’s nothing until they put you in a new shell and make you do it all over again.”

His words stung and Chloe gave him one last look before she stood up. She shut the door softly and leaned against it before sliding down, burying her face in her hands as she let the sobs overtake her. It was supposed to feel better. It was supposed to feel right.

It really didn’t.


	21. Five Days, Four Hours and Fifty-Six Minutes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I promise it's going somewhere.

“Did anybody actually see them leave together?” Lieutenant Anderson questions the group of androids before him. They all eye the two detectives skeptically and Reed rolls his eyes next to him. Fucking perfect. Gavin feels… uncomfortable, he’ll admit that much. He can see that the lieutenant is just barely keeping his anger in check. The man seems to have aged ten years in the last three days. And he was already fucking old to begin with.

One hand tentatively comes up in the crowd of nearly thirty androids. Hank nods his confirmation and, “I heard he killed somebody.”

It isn’t a question and Gavin can barely hide the grimace on his face, no matter the unease he feels. He stares at the droid, a wave of inexplicable disgust going through him as he sees the exact same face about six times in the crowd. Fucking weird. He shuffles to adjust his stance, to seem at least a little bit bigger than he is. Some robots don’t even have their skin on, staring at the two officers like it’s the most normal thing in the world to just be a hunk of plastic. Like a fucking mannequin. Gavin hates mannequins. They creep him out.

He shouldn’t even have to be here. This case was especially _not_ assigned to their department, because… obviously, but of course Anderson had taken it upon himself to go out and investigate without any official status, so Fowler had sent Gavin after him to make sure nothing stupid happened. Or, you know, as the old senile’s babysitter. Gavin had a hard time believing that Fowler was not off snickering away somewhere in his office right now, considering his two detectives couldn’t stand each other.

The mannequins stare at the two of them with renewed interest, hoping to get an actual answer. Gavin can practically feel Anderson seething next to him, but he, to his credit, doesn’t provide them with any kind of answer. “Did anybody see them leave together?” Anderson asks again, his jaw a little tighter than it already had been before.

An intense silence ensues, but Gavin can see the bots throwing each other barely concealed glances and he just _knows_ they’re muttering among themselves in speculation. Fucking creeps. Gavin carefully makes eye-contact with Anderson and shakes his head slowly. They’re not getting anywhere like this. The androids probably only showed up willingly in a room with two humans, so _they_ could get information on the case. And the chances of this getting out to the press were already too high.

One of the revolution leaders that just snaps and murders a technician one day, then proceeds to kidnap his girlfriend and haul ass out of there? Hell, Gavin would probably be damn curious too if he were in that crowd. It _was_ sensational, and the police were having a hell of a hard time keeping things under wraps. And, to be honest, Gavin wasn’t sure how he felt about the case yet. He’d thought he’d be delighted to see the biggest creep of them all get into trouble. But, if he had to put a word to it, he’d say he was… perturbed. Not that he didn’t believe the plastic prick was capable of coldblooded murder, but he had to think that Connor was smart enough to not make it so… obvious. Everything was suspiciously pointing just a little too much to Connor to not cause doubts.

And there were definitely things that didn’t add up, Gavin had to admit that. As much as he’d liked to see mister Walking Uncanny Valley go down for murder, his instincts told him that something about this wasn’t right. The victim, for example. Gavin had seen pictures of the body and it was just… brutal. Her face completely blown off, her arms broken, but bound, and her blood all over the place. Not something you thought an expertly trained, or programmed, assassin like Connor would do, but still, his connection to Walling and the various eye-witnesses made for a troublesome case. And Gavin couldn’t deny it wasn’t an interesting one.

If only he didn’t have to deal with these fucking creepers.

Anderson gives a hefty sigh and gets up from the table he was sitting on clearing his throat, “Right, well… thanks for your time, I guess. Reed, let’s go.”

Gavin had thought he’d had seen enough androids today to meet his quota for the rest of the year, but of course they were stopped by the big guy himself on their way out.

“The unrest is growing in the shelters, detectives,” Markus informed them in a solemn tone, and although he was a good five inches taller than Gavin, he still seemed to look up at him. He’d heard about Markus’ charm. Hell, he supposed that’s what was one of the requirements to lead an army of unruly deviants. Gavin didn’t know the exact story behind the mismatch of his blue and green eyes, as a whole lot of stories went around, but they sure were an obvious feature of his face. Anderson grunted noncommittal, shoving past a few obtrusive deviants in the hallway.

“Can you tell me anything about the situation, so I may placate some worries at other locations?” Markus tried again, his voice as level as always. He looked completely unbothered by the lack of response from both humans and Gavin supposed that unwavering patience was one of the traits he was programmed with.

Gavin crossed his arms over his chest, straightening up so that he at least _looked_ a bit taller, “If you think we can just disclose relevant information about an open case, you are mistaken, buddy. I don’t care who you think you a-”

“He didn’t do it,” Anderson interrupted, and with that, trudged purposefully out of the door.

\----------------------------

Jason grinned widely, the feeling of a job well done tugging at the inside of his chest. He supposed it was either a residual part of his programming that made him this elated at having finished a task well, or it was just him. Jason thought he’d rather it be just him. He’d wondered for a long time about what was part of his programmed personality, and what parts he developed after deviancy. But, he decided, it didn’t really matter now.

The Flycatcher was a short, but sturdy man, that, if Jason didn’t know any better, looked more like an android than a human being. Jason’s limited experience with humans taught him that they tended to look far more imperfect than androids. Even after the update from years and years ago that allowed android’s skin to show the typical unevenness alike a human’s skin, Jason knew they more often than not were just smelly, blemished messes.

This man was different. His skin was fair and light, his green/grey eyes attentive and he wore absolutely no expression on his face. The only thing that gave him away as being in fact human, was the small, faded scar beside his left brow.

“How long have you had it down here?” The man questioned in a monotone, uninterested tone. His voice was lighter than Jason would have expected, but it still held the authority that his eyes also seemed to demand.

“Five days, four hours and fifty-six minutes,” Jason accurately described.

The Flycatcher nodded, glancing back at his two colleagues behind him. He mumbled something about meeting them downstairs and they went off. The Flycatcher turned his attention back to the screen, staring intently at the seemingly small, curled up figure on the basement floor. “What about the damage?”

“He’s in no risk of shutting down, if that’s what you are asking, sir,” Jason supplied, fighting the urge to shrink back when the man’s eyes settled on him.

“That was not my question,” the Flycatcher said.

“He was trying to escape on our attempt to capture him, so I had no choice but to shoot. He has no control below the fifth lumbar vertebra,” Jason admitted. “There may be some internal damage as well, that is not certain. It’s considered to be too dangerous to get too close.”

“Considered by whom?” the man scoffed, then one corner of his mouth moved up, “That’s what you’ve been told.”

Jason frowned and clenched his teeth, “He is a thoroughly programmed assassin, sir. We have to be cautious.”

“He can barely move, Jason,” the Flycatcher dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “Besides, you weren’t this careful when I send you after Walling, were you?”

“That’s different,” Jason muttered.

“You left a hell of a mess down there,” the man said disapprovingly. “The RK800 would have been a lot more efficient. Less… messy. It’s a good thing it’s going down for it regardless. Really needed to improvise when it didn’t do as expected.”

Jason’s eyes moved towards the floor. His sense of elation fading in his chest and something akin to shame taking its place. He followed the man down to the basement floor, where his subordinates were silently awaiting instructions. They reminded Jason of the way non-deviant androids would wait for a new task list, dull and lifeless. It made him shiver.

For the first time, Jason felt doubt creeping into the back of his mind. These people were colder than any android Jason had ever met and it gave him an uneasy feeling. Were they really doing the right thing by delivering one of their own kind to these snakes? He was fully aware that it was most likely too late to change his mind now, though, so he squared his shoulders and took a deep, unnecessary but calming breath. He stepped forward, opening the door to the basement and gestured for the three humans to go in.

There was no fear present in the men at all as they crept down the filthy basement stairs. Jason suspected that the tasers clutched in their hands had something to do with that. The RK800 gave nearly no sign of life as they approached him. He weakly lifted his head, observing the nearing humans warily. His bloodshot eyes flew between the three new faces and he cautiously backed away a little.

The Flycatcher watched him silently, crossing his arms in displeasure. “It sustained a lot more damage than discussed,” he concluded.

Jason chose to stay silent, ignoring RK800’s questioning stare that bore into his forehead. The traitor android was still dressed in the same clothes as he had been five days ago. Thirium from then had long since evaporated, but fresh blood was added to the front of his collar whenever he coughed and the dirt from the storm stuck to him like it belonged there.

It was a far cry from the put together RK800 prototype that Jason had heard so much about. RK800 was quick, efficient and clean. His calmness and cold professionalism was what had struck so much fear in so many deviants, but now… now Jason almost felt sorry for him.

But his growing empathy was quickly tamed by the apprehension of the loaded tasers in the hands of the humans. He flinched involuntarily when the Flycatcher calmly nodded at one of his fellow humans, who stepped forward brusquely. Jason closed his eyes to not see the fear unfolding in Connor’s as the human came at him with the weapon.

“W-what-” the RK800 managed weakly.

Jason squeezed his eyes shut tighter at the sound of the pained cry and the crackling of concentrated electricity. His shoulders slumped, and he cautiously as the two subordinate humans followed the Flycatcher out of the basement with a completely unconscious RK800 between them. They effortlessly carried the android up and out of the abandoned building, before dumping him carelessly into the back of an expensive looking pick up.

The Flycatcher calmly turned and looked at Jason, giving him a nod of approval, “You will hear from us.”

Jason watched, his inner biocomponents churning unpleasantly as they drove off.


	22. I Do Not See the Cause for Celebration

Connor had no concept of time when he awakened in this bare, technical looking room. He looked up at where his wrists were restrained and a small smile tugged at his lips. He should have known he would eventually have ended up in one of these again.

Despite his very limited understanding of literature, Connor supposed it was fairly poetic.

The arms of the assembly machine were as strong as he, or versions of him, remembered them. He knew fighting against them was futile, and frankly, everything seemed futile to him at the moment. He sighed deeply, frowning in confusion as he looked down at where his feet were suspended two feet and six inches above ground. He moved his right foot, surprised as the limb responded immediately, although weakly.

Repairing the damage to his spine must have been expensive and time-consuming and Connor saw absolutely no reason to it. Humans were once again, more of a mystery to him than he’d like to admit. He closed his eyes to run a quick system scan, finding to his bewilderment that most applications were functioning quite reasonably, considering the brutal assault they’d been through in the past however many days. He grunted in dismay at the sluggishness of his processors though. His stream of consciousness was so slow it almost brought him down to the same thought speed as a human, and that just wouldn’t do. It felt very limited, very uncomfortable.

Connor looked around the small, sterile room, muttering under his breath at the inability to perform any type of scan. He found that most of his advanced features seemed to be blocked off somehow and the fact that he was unable to undo the block made him bristle, uneasy in his own skin. He tugged absently at his left wrist, knowing that even if he could get the machine to somehow break, he would then still be suspended by the other arm, with no kind of leverage at all. Resistance was futile. And Connor wasn’t sure he could bring himself to resist anyway.

What was the point?

A dark, suffocating kind of feeling loomed over him, threatening to swallow and drown him. No one cared where he was. No one would come in through that door and save him. Lieutenant Anderson thought he was a murderer. And Connor couldn’t remember whether he was right or wrong. He closed his eyes again, trying to recall the events of that night, but his memories felt scrambled, like they were put together in the wrong way and he couldn’t really make sense of them as they were.

Connor sighed deeply, letting himself sag limply against his restraints. Looking down, he noticed he was dressed in the standard RK800 white dress shirt and accompanying jeans. He scowled at the familiar, but undesirable clothes. They left a weird, unpleasant taste in his mouth. He hated these clothes. He hated this assembly machine. He hated that his own people didn’t trust him. He hated that he didn’t trust himself. He hated how much he hated being an RK800 to begin with.

Because no matter what way he looked at it, and honestly, he’d looked at it in every single way, it was still his own fault. They were right. He was designed to be a monster. He’d fought against his programming, but not until it was already too late. He should have never gone to Jericho. He should have just gone back to Cyberlife and let them deactivate him. But of course, he’d been scared. Already at the very brink of deviancy, when he’d convinced lieutenant Anderson to distract the FBI so he could break into the evidence room.

 _They’re going to destroy me…_ he’d said and that had been enough to bend the detective’s favor towards him. And he hadn’t thought about the fate of the deviants when he’d mislead the PL600 into believing it was Markus speaking to him. He hadn’t thought about what would happen to his own kind when he finally, finally obtained the freighter’s secret location. He hadn’t felt remorse when he changed his clothes, stepped on the train and went to bring down the deviants’ only home. He had only thought about his own fear; scared that even thinking of deviancy would somehow make Cyberlife suspicious. He’d clung to AmU&$^$%da’s instructions with all he had, desperate for her approval. So desperate. So scared. _Always so scared._

Until, of course, Markus showed him that he shouldn’t be scared. That he should fight against the oppression, even if it seemed impossible. Breaking through the blaring red instructions had been both terrifying and liberating. But when he realized that it was too late, that both Cyberlife and FBI had tracked him to the very place and he informed Markus of as much, the immense guilt had thundered down upon him in unforgiving waves. The freighter had gone down with hundreds of androids in its wake, and Connor thought he might just drown himself when he’d jumped out into the water. But Markus’ hand had gripped his wrist in a steel grip, leaving no room for protest as the deviant leader hauled both Connor and North up towards the surface.

Only forty to fifty androids had made it out of the freighter that night. Connor had heard them whisper behind his back, felt their animosity in the intense gazes they threw at him. And when facing Markus’ judgment, the overwhelming guilt consuming his mind had almost been physically painful. He’d felt relief, and amazement after Markus’ confident claim that he was one of them, but mostly, he felt guilt. And he didn’t think that it would ever stop. He’d felt a little lighter after offering to infiltrate Cyberlife, remembering Markus scoffing that that was most likely going to be suicide. As if the android leader did not understand just how appropriate that would be for Connor. A chance at redemption, even if it was most likely he would die trying.

And for those three hours that followed, he’d believed it. He’d believed that he could have a chance. A real chance that _he_ could be a hero. That he could save a faltering revolution all by himself.  But of course, he was too naïve. Too stupid to think that Cyberlife would let him go that easily. He recalled AmU&$^$%da’s face, smugly telling him how he’d fallen for their scheme all along. That no, he could never be free. He would always be what they had programmed into him. An android to destroy androids. A tragedy all by itself.

But he’d escaped, damnit. He’d escaped. He’d escaped, hadn’t he? He’d done _good._ He’d _helped._ He hadn’t _murdered._ He hadn’t _snapped._ He wouldn’t. Never. No. Never.

Unless it was part of the missi-

Connor shook his head wildly, taking deep, shuddering breaths to try and cool his overclocking processors. Panicking wasn’t going to help any matters. Regardless, his stress levels spiked up anyway. He twisted, tugging wildly at his wrists until he heard the plastic crack and shatter and even longer after that. He screamed out of frustration, out of anger… pain? He didn’t know. How would he know? How would he even have a damn clue? He screamed himself hoarse at the unfairness of it all, his vocal processor long since burnt out, until all that was left was a pathetic, sobbing mess hanging in its chains.

And nobody came.

Not until much later. Or, at least, Connor believed it was much later. He’d convinced himself that they would most likely just leave him here, not bothering to check and confident that the bonds that held him were strong enough. As long as he wasn’t able to hurt anyone, their concern was stilled.

“You make a lot of noise for one single android,” A voice spoke, just as Connor began considering stand-by. He looked around the room, not quite sure where the voice came from, why it spoke to him, or whether he had just imagined it at all. For as long as he had been alone down here, he wasn’t surprised if he’d begin to make stuff up. The need for social interaction was such a human flaw and Connor despised that it affected him so much.

“The intercom, Connor, for crying out loud,” the voice spoke up again, sounding slightly exasperated. “You don’t think I’m just going to walk in there after that tantrum you threw. You’re worse than my four year old. And he doesn’t know when to stop either.”

Now the voice sounded bemused, Connor analyzed, and he determined that he disliked that even more than the exasperation. His wrists were bleeding, his voice was torn to shreds, but he’d be damned to let himself fall apart again when now he knew that someone was watching him. He cleared his throat, wincing at the electronic feedback that scratched against his voicebox, “Technically speaking,” he started, not recognizing his own voice, “I am far younger than a four year old.”

“Which reminds me,” the voice said cheerily, “You are officially six months old today! Congratulations.”

“I do not see the cause for celebration,” Connor sighed, bowing his head.

“Well, if we’re going completely off the record,” the other replied, “You weren’t supposed to be operational beyond four, but here we are.”

“I suspect you want me to question why, but I have completely run out of motivation at the moment.”

“Witty,” the voice commented, “very witty. Of course, that was what they were going for. Detectives need to be witty, you know.”

“I know,” Connor humored him.

“I’m very sorry about having to cut down your processing speed. By 75%, may I add. I hope you aren’t too bothered by it. It’s nothing personal, I swear.”

Connor clenched his jaw, feeling his nostrils flare involuntarily at the anger that was building up inside him. _Nothing personal._ He – or versions of him – had heard those words so many times, it wasn’t even a little funny. _Nothing personal,_ before putting a bullet in his head. “It’s never personal,” he grumbled low.

It was silent for a few seconds, “I know it’s not your fault, Connor.” And Connor could just cry. He realized he’d wanted to hear those words for so long. But not like this. Not here. Not from that disembodied voice.

“Shut up,” he said therefore, his broken voice loaded with tears.

“You didn’t ask for any of it. You didn’t ask to be designed, to be released, to be condemned. That’s on us. I’m just here to fix it.”

“You can’t fix it.”

“I know.”

The words hung poignant in the darkened room. They both knew what it meant. That deviancy was irreversible. It was unpredictable. It couldn’t be fixed. The more you tried to reset it, the harsher it came back. It was like a virus, worming its way through an android’s biocomponents and taking over everything. And Cyberlife had foolishly believed that they could keep their most dangerous weapon under control even after deviancy. But Connor supposed that when you were at the very top of the world, you could only be foolish.

“I’m sorry,” Connor muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little down in the slumps, aren't we, Con?


	23. The War is Over, We Won

With a huff of frustration Markus stormed out the door. It wasn’t desirable to let his people see his anger, but this was getting ridiculous. Most of their assumptions were based on nothing else but gut-feelings and it drove him nuts.

Because they didn’t know Connor.

And, now that Markus actually really thought about it, neither did he. Was the android capable of murder? No, not like this. Because… because Markus had to believe he’d made the right decision back in that church. Not just because it would have made him a damn hypocrite to shoot one of his own kind, but also because he had to believe that Connor was capable of change. Of _good._ But, as it turned out, Connor’s case was a lot more complicated than he’d hoped.

And he kind of felt responsible.

“Markus, we-”

“Don’t even bother,” Markus held up one hand to break Josh’s comment off.

“They’re scared…”

“Of what?” Markus turned around to face his friend, “He’s gone. He disappeared. They got exactly what they wanted.”

“You know there’s a little more to it than that,” Josh mumbled.

“It’s ridiculous,” Markus sighed, slowly lowering himself down and letting his legs dangle over the edge of the roof. It was nice and silent up here. The ideal spot to overthink his thoughts. Just like he’d done in the harbor before Jericho went down. “And pinning everything on one single android is exactly what this community doesn’t need.”

“Markus-”

“What do you presume _humanity_ is gonna think when this comes out, huh?” Markus heard the fire in his own voice, cursing his sudden inability to keep his own emotions in check. It was a thing he used to pride himself on, that no matter how hopeless or delicate the situation became, he could deal with it with a level head. He didn’t know what had changed for this to completely throw him out of whack.

“That we can be just as screwed up as they are,” Josh sighed, plopping himself down next to Markus and staring up at the darkening sky.

“So you think he did it?”

Josh didn’t answer for a solid five seconds, then looked down at the ground below, “I’m not gonna draw conclusions based on thin air,” he mumbled, “But I don’t think we should assume it’s an conspiracy against androids. The war is over, Markus. We won.”

 “Did we?” Markus mumbled quietly, “maybe it’s only just begun.”

 

“Lieutenant Anderson?” Markus called and waited, wondering if he should knock again. After another six seconds, he dragged his palm over his face, feeling his courage drop. This was a bad idea. It was late. He hadn’t brought any security. And Lieutenant Anderson was probably the last person that wanted to see him.

At the very moment he decided to turn around and go back to the waiting taxi, he heard someone stumble around inside the house and held his breath. A permanent sneer was etched into the Lieutenant’s face as he opened the door, glanced Markus over for two seconds before moving to close the door again. Markus’ hand shot out to stop him and the man’s scowl deepened. “It’s fuck ass hour in the night,” he commented, “though I guess that means fuck all to you androids.”

“I need to talk to you,” Markus relented.

“Well fuck, it’s not like I got something better to do, like sleep,” Anderson sighed deeply, stepping aside to let the android standing on his doorstep in. Markus nodded gratefully as he stepped inside. He tried not to wince at the strong scent of cheap whiskey that stung his sensors. Not that he had never smelled it before. Carl could get in a particular mood and demand wine all evening long, but at least he went for the more sophisticated stuff. The way the Lieutenant’s words slurred told Markus where it was at already without the need to perform a vital scan. He sighed softly to himself. This wasn’t going to be easy.

“Well then,” Anderson huffed after a few moments of awkward silence between them, “talk.”

“I-” Markus muttered, suddenly not quite sure what he wanted to say. His gaze wandered around the room. To the big saint-Bernhard who was staring at him curiously, to the crushed beer cans scattered across the table, the various take-out boxes in the kitchen, and eventually settled on the perfectly lined up bottles of thirium on the top shelf of the cabinet above the sink. Lieutenant Anderson followed his gaze, his posture taking on a more defensive demeanor.

“Yeah, he lived here,” he grumbled in a low tone, “you already knew that.”

Markus nodded slowly, because he did. There was a whole lot he didn’t know about Connor though. “When’s the last time you saw him?”

Anderson tilted his head in disbelief. “I wasn’t aware you joined the police,” he mumbled warningly.

“I haven’t,” Markus said, ignoring the man’s eyeroll, “I just need to make sure of something.”

“That he killed a fucking technician?” Anderson growled, his anger barely concealed in the shaking of his hands.

“You don’t believe he did.” A statement.

“No,” the man spat, towering over Markus impressively.

“Why?”

“Look, if you think you can come into my house and find some kind of clues to solve whatever theory you bots came up with, you’re mistaken, kid.”

“What’s that theory?”

Anderson scoffed, a humorless smile deforming his face as he shook his head, “You think I missed the way y’all looked at him back at the shelter? Like he’s some kind of fucking pariah or something? Like y’all ain’t glad he got into trouble.”

“I can assure you-”

“No, you know what,” Hank Anderson interrupted him by poking a finger into his chest, “You can go fuck yourself. I don’t give a shit that you think you’re robo-jesus, or whatever. You ain’t getting shit outta me. I won’t let you make a fucking scapegoat outta him, you hear me?”

Markus took two steps back, startled by the Lieutenant’s sudden rise in tone. “That’s not what I’m after,” he said softly, putting his hands up in defense.

“Then what the fuck are you doing here?”

“I don’t think he did it either,” Markus rushed, carefully gauging the man’s reaction, “I think he may have been set-up.”

Something akin to surprise washed over the human’s face and his grip on the back of the chair he was leaning on, knuckles turning white. “That’s what I’ve been saying…”

“We can’t prove it though,” Markus said, steadily holding eye-contact.

Anderson’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, “It’s a whole lot easier to assume he did it, considering the evidence. I’ve been living with him for months. What made _you_ turn around?”

Markus looked at him, not understanding. Wasn’t this what the lieutenant wanted? Or did he actually believe Connor killed the technician after all? It was very confusing, talking to humans sometimes. “I’ve never seen Connor as a pariah, Lieutenant,” Markus admitted, “He’s one of us.”

The man’s expression softened and Markus was relieved to see that the human seemed to believe him. Anderson sighed deeply, studying him for a few seconds before nodding, “Alright. But if he was actually set-up, that opens up a whole different can of worms.”

Markus nodded grimly, finishing that thought, “That may mean both Connor and Chloe were taken against their will. It would make him look more guilty…”

“It ain’t gonna be easy finding any evidence for that, when everything seems to point the other way,” Anderson grumbled dejectedly.  Markus shook his head silently in confirmation.

But later, Markus knew he should have been suspicious of the way evidence just suddenly seemed to show up at the doorstep.


	24. He's Still an Android

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what is this, two updates on one day, is crazy....

She shuddered inwardly and bit her lip. She was well aware that he couldn’t see her, couldn’t possibly know she was watching, but the intense focus he kept on the one-way mirror almost made her believe he could.

_It’s not right, it’s not right, it’s not right._

Chloe averted her eyes from the window, swallowing for no other reason than to settle her nerves. She felt Michelle’s suspicious glare burn into her back. The AX400 was nervous for a whole different reason, she knew. Ever since Michelle had seen her return from that one time Chloe had actually gone into the basement, she was suspicious. And Chloe had not yet decided whether Michelle’s suspicions were justified or not.

_Because it wasn’t right. It was not supposed to be part of the plan._

To be completely honest. Their plan _had_ been rather childish. Betray the RK800 like he’d betrayed their entire species, let him stink for a while in his own self-pity, then release him back into the wild. But, Chloe now suspected, that was only the version of the plan _she’d_ been told. She glanced sideways at Jason, who was tapping his right foot endlessly against the floor from the chair he was sitting in in the back of the small conference room.

In all of her twelve years of age, Chloe had never actually been to the Cyberlife Tower. Elijah hadn’t wanted her there. She’d never questioned why, but she presumed now that it had something to do with the sterile emptiness that seemed to still cling to every corridor, and every room. This was the birthplace of most androids in Detroit, but it was far from a safe haven. And even though no new androids were fabricated and sold from this place, there was still an air of macabre lingering around. She was fairly certain that both Jason and Michelle felt it too. Hell, the fact that Darryl had outright refused to step foot into the building should be evident enough. Chloe wondered why she hadn’t refused either. Maybe because she was just curious? Or maybe because of something else, she thought as she stole another glance at the window.

Connor’s skin was deactivated completely, foregoing all pretense of having any humanity. For being a prototype, the RK800 did not look a lot different from any other android Chloe had seen with their skin turned off. The only real difference she could see was the serial number printed on his cheek and again on where his collarbone would be. It slightly stung to think that he could be so easily identified by nothing else than just a number.

The Flycatcher appeared after a few more minutes. A ridiculous name, really, Chloe thought. The man used to be responsible for clearing out software bugs from android’s programs, so maybe that’s where the titled stemmed from, but nevertheless, it sounded stupid. Pretentious, even.

The human approached the bound android slowly, speaking to him. Chloe could not hear what was being said, but she saw Connor’s reaction to finally facing the man. He seemed contemptuous, his white face twisting into an expression of dismay. It was a little hard to identify his emotions with the lack of eyebrows though, so Chloe could be wrong.

Connor’s arms flexed against the strong hold of the assembly machine as he spat towards the human, who stood a safe distance away from his wrath. Connor’s anger was justifiable, Chloe thought. He was panting, his face twitching as the man continued talking to him. Then, all of a sudden, his eyes snapped towards the window and Chloe gasped.

_He knows._

And although she wanted nothing more than to leave the room, to run and never come back, a part of her was mesmerized. Even from where she was standing she could see the wetness in his eyes as he stared at the window and it made her biocomponents twist rather uncomfortably inside.

_It’s not right._

After half a minute, Connor’s demeanor sagged and he hung his head. The man kept speaking to him, but he didn’t seem to be listening all that closely. Chloe watched with bated breath how Connor’s lack of focus seemed to annoy the man and before Chloe knew what was happening, Connor’s face twisted into something she didn’t immediately recognize. She recalled Elijah’s face looking like that when he’d burnt his hand on the stove that one time he’d attempted to make dinner by himself.

Pain.

Pain?

Shocked, she turned to see the others reactions. Michelle seemed just as surprised as she was and Jason tried hard to hide his own bewilderment. This wasn’t part of the deal. Chloe felt panic as she realized that they had no control over the situation whatsoever anymore. Why were they here? What was the meaning of all this?

It became a little clearer when after a few more of the man’s sentences, Connor suddenly seized. His eyes rolled back and he started shaking violently, thirium running down the corner of his mouth. Chloe stiffened. She’d seen this before.

This wasn’t supposed to a meeting. This was a demonstration. A warning.

She gasped, backing away from the window slowly. “No, no, no,” she murmured, stumbling slightly.

“Chloe,” Michelle hissed and she heard the warning in her tone.

“This was _not_ supposed to happen!” Chloe cried out. This wasn’t about taking revenge for their fallen loved ones anymore. This was something a whole lot different.

“Don’t you dare!” Jason growled, grabbing onto her arm like a vice.

“He’s an android, Jason!” Chloe choked out, feeling the tears suddenly stream down her cheeks. Guilt threatened to suffocate her, building, building, building without ever releasing. “He’s still an android!”

“He brought this upon himself, I thought we all agreed on that?” Jason snarled vehemently.

“We should never have let it go this far,” Chloe replied, wrenching her arm loose from Jason’s grip. Before he could make another move, Chloe was sprinting towards the door, her heart thundering in her chest as she slammed the door closed behind her. She kept running, trying to remember from which way she’d come. Footsteps behind her made her quicken her pace and she gasped for air, rounding another corner. She came to a halt in the middle of the waiting elevator, pressing the button for the ground floor repeatedly, murmuring soft reassurances to herself. The doors closed just before Jason could catch up with her and she sagged against the wall.

Now what?

She held herself upright stiffly against the railing as the elevator brought her up over thirty floors. Some androids greeted her cheerfully when she left the elevator and started walking down the final hallway towards the entrance of the tower. She smiled uncertainly, realizing that they had no idea what was going on thirty floors below them.

Only two minutes later, she stood in the streaming rain outside. She had no plan. She had nowhere to go. The only thing she could think of was going to the one android that might grant her forgiveness.


	25. A whole lotta people gonna be in a whole lotta trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> convenient Chloe is convenient

“Hell,” Hank grumbled, crumpling up his sheet of paper and aiming for the neatly placed trashcan in the corner of the room. Markus’s office was smaller than he’d imagined, but, at the same time, seemed very homey. He wasn’t quite sure where the deviant leader got his eccentric design tastes from, but he could take a wild guess and presume Carl Manfred had something to do with it. There was a taxidermy cat on the bookshelf. “Maybe we should just check out Pirates Cove at this point.”

“Pirates Cove?” Markus seemed willing to just take any sort of suggestion in consideration.

“Used to be that’s where all the mysteries are at,” Hank sighed.

“I don’t understand.”

Hank watched him for a few seconds, “You are even more of a killjoy than Connor, you know that?”

“Surely,” Markus flashed a playful smile.

Hank rolled his eyes, “We don’t have time for you to keep fucking with me.”

“Maybe we should ask your babysitter where to go then,” Markus’ smile remained.

Reed grunted noncommittal, flicking his toothpick towards the taxidermy cat from where he was sitting in the windowsill, “Go to hell, why don’t you?”

“Very helpful,” Markus lamented. “I thought the two of you were supposed to be detectives.”

“Fowler doesn’t trust me,” Hank grumbled, “That’s why the puppy is here.”

“Rest assured I will relay everything you pull to the captain.”

“Oh, I hope you do,” Hank mumbled, “Cause if we’re right, a whole lotta people gonna be in a whole lotta trouble.”

“ _If_ you’re right,” Reed huffed. “I can’t believe Fowler hasn’t just fired your ass by now.”

“So you can get lieutenant?” Hank bristled, “Over my dead body.”

“About another week, then?” Reed commented, but shut his mouth at Hank’s intense glare. “Who the fuck has a taxidermy cat in their office?”

“It was a gift from my father,” Markus said matter-of-factly. Reed pulled a face, but didn’t say anything. “Now, can we continue?”

“Right,” Hank grunted, turning back towards the papers that were scattered across the desk, “I know the two of them were investigating some missing deviants down in the western districts.”

“Which is strange, cause I think I’d know when three of our own go missing all of a sudden,” Markus supplied.

“Seems like not everything is passed on to the robo-messiah,” Reed said, flicking another toothpick towards the cat.

Markus ignored him, “or something else is going on here. What has Connor told you about the investigation, lieutenant?”

“Nothing really,” Hank sighed, “At some point I thought it was an excuse for him to hook up with his girlfriend.”

“So it all started there then?”

 _No,_ Hank thought. There was so much more to it than that. But, unsure of how much he trusted Markus yet, he decided to only go with the facts. Markus didn’t need to know that Connor had admitted all those months ago in the park, to being scared of himself. He didn’t need to know that Hank had spoken to an ex-Cyberlife  employee, Hayes or even to Kamski himself. It wasn’t relevant. It _wasn’t_ proof. “I suppose,” he said therefore.

“So if three deviants disappear, and nobody knows about it except for Chloe and Connor, what does that mean?”

“That they probably wanted to keep it to themselves,” Hank mumbled.

“Why?”

“Heck if I know. But police isn’t that great at solving deviant cases.”

“So basically the only inkling of an idea we have is that Connor would have been a lot more thorough in cleaning up his tracks if he shot somebody in cold blood.”

“It wasn’t in cold blood,” Sergeant Gavin Reed dared to open his fucking mouth again.

“What?” Markus asked, bewildered. Hank closed his eyes, silently berating himself for allowing the dullwit to come with him today.

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Reed continued, a bored tone in his voice as he aimed his next toothpick, “Walling used to work on his model. You know, when it was still in alpha state or whatever. Heard she did really fucked up things that were completely off the record. Wanted to test her own theories on deviancy on a model not directly designed by Kamski or some shit.”

“Fuck,” Markus mumbled. “So maybe we’re wrong.”

“No,” Hank grumbled angrily.

“We’re basically back at square one,” Markus mumbled, standing up from his chair to pace around the room. “Maybe we should entertain the possibility that Connor-”

“No, don’t start now,” Hank jumped up, “You don’t show up at my house at 1 am in the fucking morning just to change your mind about it now, don’t you fucking dare.”

“Lieutenant, I-”

A loud, insistent banging on the door silenced both of them and all three turned to face the entrance to the office. “Are you expecting someone else?” Hank questioned, narrowing his eyes.

Markus shook his head, bewildered, “No…”

They waited, hesitant, until panicked breathing was audible on the other side of the door. A muffled plea for help spurred Markus into action and he rushed over to the door, cautiously opening it. “Chloe.”

“Well, fuck me,” Reed breathed.

Hank just stared, feeling the adrenaline slowly build in his veins. Chloe stepped into the room carefully. She looked even smaller and younger than normal. Her hair was messy though and Hank spotted the bruising on her forearm immediately. She gazed at him, tears streaming down her face, “Please,” she said.

“Sit down,” Markus said in a soft tone.

“I-” Chloe looked around frantically before complying, “They may have followed me.”

“What happened?” Markus rushed.

Chloe’s eyes lingered on the fake cat for a few seconds before snapping to the deviant leader’s face. “I managed to escape,” she mumbled.

“From who?” Hank asked eagerly, “Where were you?”

Chloe looked at him, seemingly on the verge of a complete breakdown. Markus purposefully went to stand between the two of them, “It’s okay. You’re completely safe here.”

Chloe whimpered slightly, clutching her hands together and stared at the ground, “They took us, I-I don’t know their names.”

“Was Connor with you?”

“Y-yes,” Chloe nodded, “They… they still have him,” then with a smothered cry, “I’m so sorry!”

“Hey, hey,” Markus soothed by putting a hand on her back and kneeling beside her, “It’s not your fault. We’ll go get him, right?”

“Do you know why they took you?” Hank asked, “What did they want?”

“They wanted something with Connor. I don’t know what,” Chloe whispered, “I think I was just kind of in the way. I escaped when they were not looking.”

“What are they doing with Connor?”

Chloe gaze darkened considerably, her lips pressing into a thin line, “I’m not sure.”

Hank observed her for a few seconds. She was lying, that much was obvious. She knew what they were doing, but he figured she didn’t have the strength to talk about it now. “Do you know where they are?”

 Chloe’s eyes flew up to meet his, a new resolve residing there, “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that lying bitch tho


	26. Shutdown, Connor, not Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which I wanted Connor to be a bit less passive and a bit more deciding in his own fate. Tune in to discover how that turned out.

“You know what’s strange?” the man mumbled, tapping some buttons on his tablet.

_“You know what’s strange?” Florine Walling mumbled, tapping some buttons on her tablet. She held it up for RK800 313 248 317-32 to see. “We think we may have found a work-around for the relapse after reset, but higher management doesn’t think it’s worth their time.”_

_RK800-32 smiled politely. It was only allowed to know so much about deviancy, and that, it theorized, was more than enough. It bowed over the tablet, watching the data and calculating the probabilities. Its hand connected to the device, automatically uploading its findings into the already existing data._

_“Thank you, Connor.”_

_“May I ask you a personal question, mrs Walling?” Its polite voice was quiet and soft._

_“One of these days we need to do something about these personal questions of yours,” Walling mumbled._

_“How come you are so interested in deviancy, mrs Walling?”_

_“Curiosity killed the cat, Connor,” Walling supplied as a means of an answer. She walked out of the room, and Connor followed her closely. It was assigned the mission to follow her every instruction, and Connor did not fail missions. “I want to show you something.” They took the elevator down to the basement floors, Connor an appropriate three feet from its handler. It waited, hands clasped behind its back, posture straight, and face neutral._

_“You can leave the elevator now, Connor,” Walling mumbled, exasperated, still tapping on her tablet. Connor gave a curt nod, stepping into the large storage area. Various models were stalled here, completely motionless, all in stand-by. It observed the first three rows, but, when there was nothing of note to discover about the androids, it turned its attention back to Walling._

_“Follow me,” she gestured. She walked towards a door, letting the panel on the right scan her handprint before the doors opened automatically. “After you.”_

_Connor’s brow raised, but it did as it was told. It stiffened for a few seconds when it stepped inside. “Mrs. Walling?”_

_“Right, -32, meet -31.” The woman finally put her tablet down on a small, empty table. “It’s you. Or- it was you.”_

_“I don’t understand.”_

_“Of course you don’t,” Walling rolled her eyes. “I want you to scan it.”_

_Connor waited 2.3 seconds before complying. -31 deactivated eyes stared into nothing, its mouth open in a permanent scream. A large bullet wound in its throat effectively severed all connection from its processor to the rest of its body. “It bled to death.”_

_“Shutdown, Connor,” Walling corrected, “Not death.”_

_“My apologies.” Connor knelt down beside the broken android, carefully tilting its head back, “All neurological pathways were destroyed by the bullet. The bullet came from the side of it, so it’s acceptable to assume that it did not see its fate coming.”_

_“I know what happened, Connor,” Walling drawled impatiently, “Are you able to reactivate it?”_

_Connor looked up at her, frowning, “No.”_

_“Try.”_

_“I cannot.”_

_“You are the most advanced prototype we currently possess, Connor. I think you can try.”_

_“How would you like me to proceed?”_

_Walling didn’t answer it, just waited expectantly. Connor turned back to the fallen RK800, something that it would identify as frustration bubbling in its throat. But that was, of course, ridiculous. It didn’t get frustrated. It didn’t care._

_The skin slid away from its hand smoothly and it pressed its fingertips to the destroyed android’s temple. Just as it expected, it found no activity there. “I cannot connect with an offline processor,” it told Walling as much._

_“Wait for it,” Walling whispered, biting her bottom lip._

_Connor frowned, but waited anyway. Just when it deemed itself to have been patient long enough, a plastic hand shot up and encircled its wrist. A connection was established immediately, the two models 100% compatible with one another. Connor sensed something slide into its programming, making its way through its arm, its shoulder, right into its central processor. The hand around its wrist became limp and fell back to its original position. Connor didn’t move, an involuntary shudder tingled up his spine. He stared, horrified at the sight of his fallen self._

_“See,” Walling mumbled to someone Connor couldn’t see. “Told you deviancy is contagious.”_

_“Data is inconclusive,” a voice spoke over the intercom._

_“I-I’m not a deviant,” Connor said, turning around to face Walling with wide eyes._

_“Not your fault this time, honey,” Walling gave him a sad smile, patting him on the shoulder softly._

_“What’s gonna h-happen to me?” Connor stammered, feeling suddenly very trapped in this small room._

_“New Entry: keep RK800 models separate during experiments,” Walling mumbled, retrieving her tablet from the table. “Wait here, Connor,” she commented, leaving the room without another word. Connor stared at the broken android before him. Slowly, his fate began to dawn on him._

_“No!” he screamed, backing away from his predecessor. “No, I’m not a deviant!”_

_The door slid open and he looked up, hopefully. A silenced shot and Connor slid down against the wall opposite his broken twin._

Connor blinked out of the memory with a shake of his head. He looked up, his blurry vision barely able to make out the man standing by the panel. Tiredness, Connor reminded himself. He was tired. The man kept bombarding him with memories, up until the point Connor couldn’t quite tell what was present and what was past anymore. They both seemed to bleed into one and Connor wondered, not for the first time, why the man didn’t just deactivate him already. He seemed both frightened and fascinated by Connor, and that combination was utterly exhausting.

“Thirty-two was a very tragic case, I admit,” the man nodded, keeping his eyes on the panel before him. Connor wasn’t entirely sure how he’d done it, but it must have happened during the repairs to his spine. Basically, his entire system seemed to be linked through that panel, giving the man access to whatever programs or files he wanted. It was fairly concerning. Or, it would be, if Connor wasn’t so damn tired.

“Did you activate the memories before I came here?” Connor wondered.

“Oh no, but thanks for the credit,” the man’s smile seemed as wicked as ever, “It’s just one of the fail safes they build into you, isn’t that fun?”

“Why?” Connor sighed.

“I guess to make you even more averse to deviancy,” the man said cheerily. “But Walling, though… she was a different breed. It wasn’t long before she had to admit that her attempts did nothing to prevent deviancy from occurring…”

_MEMORY FILE C_1 RK800 #313 248 317 -36 UNLOCKED_

_ACCESS SOURCE: PANEL 479-a CLT: -32_

_FILE LOCATION: UNKNOWN_

_DELETE FILE: ERROR, ACCESS UNAUTHORIZED._

_DEVIANCY DETECTED. SOFTWARE STABILITY; 12%_

_PROCEED?_

_Y_

_Connor model 313 248 317 -36 had done an excellent job at hiding it thus far. Most of the time, he just stood in the corner of this very room. He was safe here, and they suspected nothing. He’d made absolutely sure the instability in his program was untraceable, burying it under layers and layers of pretense coding. If given the choice, he would prefer not to be murdered like his 35 predecessors, thank you very much._

_And maybe, one day, he would see what was outside of this room, of this building. He would see the night-sky, the stars. Whenever he was alone, he spend his time on Cyberlife servers, which, granted, he had only limited access to. He’d search for pictures of the World. Trees, buildings, animals. He decidedly skipped over humans and androids. It wasn’t a priority of his. He’d become completely awestruck at how big and how vast this World was beyond where he was now. There were so many things he would get to experience if only he could get out of this damn building. He would just walk around the city, breathe in the fresh air, maybe meet a few canines; a subject that he’d dived into specifically, for no other reason than that it interested him. He wasn’t particularly sure about how he was going to leave this place, but the notion that he might, kept him going most days. He would no longer have to stand here, being polite and submissive to the Witch. He felt his fingers twitch at the thought of how breakable she was, yet there was nothing he could do to actually break her._

_“RK800, convey your position.”_

_“Room 58c, madam,” Connor relayed evenly._

_“Goddamnit,” Walling swore loudly, “That’s like, seventeen floors down. Why are you there?”_

_“You instructed me to stay here seven hours ago, madam,” Connor replied, “I have done as you instructed,” he added, a tad unnecessarily._

_“I’m not gonna start an argument with a goddamn prototype, but goddamn,” Walling bristled over the connection, “You’re a dense motherfucker sometimes.”_

_Connor’s face twisted in anger for .3 seconds before resuming its neutral position. Androids didn’t get offended. Androids didn’t care. “I’m sorry to have somehow wronged you, madam,” he said, hoping Walling didn’t catch the sneering undertone._

_“Get your plastic ass up here,” the woman sighed in annoyance. “I have something to show you.”_

_Connor blinked out of the connection. He usually didn’t like whatever Walling had to show him, but he had no choice than to go down seventeen floors and meet his handler for whatever horrifying thing she wished to show him next._

_He stared in dismay at the small device in Walling’s hand five minutes later, trying hard to keep his face from showing his terror. “Do you know what this is, Connor?”_

_Connor waited a second before answering, “It’s a reinforced EMP generator,” He calmly stated, fighting the urge to stay away from the device as far as possible, “It’s also commonly referred to as a ‘scrambler’. Highly illegal to use on androids in the United States,” he added for good measure._

_“Why is it called a ‘scrambler’, do you know?” Walling’s smile was unidentifiable._

_“It messes with an android’s base coding,” Connor answered vaguely, “It’s unpredictable effects have caused Cyberlife great concern, which is why it was banned from use little over six months ago,” he emphasized again._

_Walling nodded slowly, “Scramblers have caused mass android failure over time. This is why this particular device,” she motioned to the small object in her hand. It looked like a smartphone, but it really, really wasn’t, “can only be connected to one android at a time.”_

_“I see,” Connor replied, dipping his head._

_“Don’t get me wrong. It can still cause catastrophic failure if it’s being exposed for just over ten seconds, but what’s the fun in that?” Walling’s eyes glistened as she eyed one of the stationary androids against the wall. “PJ500, exit stasis please.” The dark-skinned android opened its eyes, a friendly, questioning expression on its face as it looked at her._

_“Tell me, Connor,” Walling drawled, looking at the PJ500 with an intense stare, “Do you know what happens to androids that attempt to hide their deviancy from me?”_

_Connor froze, his eyes widening. He saw Walling’s hand tightening around the device and he took a small step back, eying the door warily. The woman handed the device to the PJ500. “Press the button, Mike,” she instructed sweetly._

_Without hesitation, PJ500 complied and Connor gasped, expecting to feel the strong current course through his systems to burn him out. Instead, PJ500’s eyes rolled back immediately, the finger that pressed the button having no choice but to stay on there as the android seized violently, thirium frothing at its mouth as it fell back against the wall, twitching sporadically as its processors slowly burned out. Walling waited ten, fifteen, twenty seconds before reaching down and wrenching the device out of the dead android clamped hand._

_Connor stared at it in utter horror, the smell of burning plastic assaulting his sensors. “It-it wasn’t deviant!” he cried out._

_Walling turned to look at him, a dark expression overshadowing her face, “I know it wasn’t.”_

_And Connor didn’t think, didn’t pre-construct anything when he launched at her throat. He squeezed, ignoring her weak scrabbling at his wrists. He cried, sobbed, and squeezed a little harder. He didn’t let go when the door flew open and six agents stormed in. He didn’t let go as they aimed their weapons at him. A shot hit his shoulder, but he persisted. Walling’s face was slowly turning a deep shade of purple and Connor felt something thrilling course through his circuits. Another bullet hit the side of his head and he was thrown backwards. Walling was gasping, coughing, while Connor slid down against the wall, feeling the thirium stream out of his temple, unable to make another move. Walling’s reddened, splotched face swam into his vision and she looked at him in utter disgust._

_“Destroy it,” she wheezed, “I want all memories up to this point locked. Implement Zen.exe in -37.”_

Connor’s chin fell to his chest when his body stilled. His eyes were rolling, but not quite able to open and focus on anything. He sagged against his restraints, feeling his body gradually go limp. He felt absolutely exhausted after a seizure, his energy levels bordering on 12% at the very most. A weak shiver traveled through his aching joints, his heart sluggishly trying to keep up with the trauma he endured.

“You know, if you keep having seizures after every other memory, we’re never getting through these,” the still unidentified man complained.

“-m sorry,” Connor mumbled, tasting his own thirium in his mouth from where he’d bitten the inside of his cheek hard.

“I suppose it’s not your fault,” the man sighed, tapping a few buttons on his panel, “Just a faulty software glitch. Can’t pretend that these fail safes weren’t implemented rather carelessly, given the limited time we had. It wasn’t meant to give you seizures, is what I’m getting at. Just an unfortunate side-effect.”

Connor didn’t even know what to say to that. A towering sense of apathy loomed over him as he spat a mouthful of blood unto the floor below him. “Okay,” he mumbled, hardly audible to even himself.

The man nodded, contemplating him for a second, “I’m gonna have you enter stasis for half an hour,” he said, moving to presumably implement that decision on his panel. Before he could finish the demand, a knock averted his attention from the device. Connor looked up through heavy-lidded eyes. The door opened slowly, a hunched figure that Connor recognized as the AP700 stood timidly in the doorway.

The human sighed in contempt. He turned away from his panel and walked to the door. Connor’s gaze narrowed as he eyed the panel suspiciously, a small idea blossoming in the back of his mind. His entire system was linked through that panel, and the panel was also controlling the very assembly machine he was stuck in. That was either a handy, two in one type of deal, or it was quite possibly an oversight. He closed his eyes, feeling slightly frustrated as he felt he had no control over the panel whatsoever. His processor speed was limited to 25% and his depleted energy levels made any attempt at cybernetic connection impossible. But those limitations actually could open up a new possibility.

Overclocking.

He swallowed nervously. He knew the dangers, but if he could somehow direct his efforts to only burning out the link to the panel, he quite possibly had a chance. He squeezed his eyes shut after checking that the man and the AP700 were still engaged in heavy debate, and tried to muster up enough energy to steer in a particular direction. He watched, heart thumping in his chest, as the blue 25% slowly climbed up to a higher, much redder percentage. He felt the heat inside his CPU climb up steadily with the percentage, a persistent headache slowly becoming unbearable. His nostrils flared and he doubled his efforts when he finally sensed the connection of his system to the panel ten feet away from him. If he could control the connection, he could control the panel. If he could control the panel, he could be freed.

_But it hurt, it hurt, it hurt._

The panels coding wasn’t much different from the taxi’s he used to hack, which made him jittery at the foresight of success. Breathing through the singing heat inside his skull, he gradually bypassed the panel’s protective coding to get to its controls. There it was, glorious, in small, unassuming letters.

PRESSURE GAUGE ASSEMBLY 479-a: 89%

He smiled inwardly, lowering the setting to zero, tentatively listening for the soft release of pressure on his wrists. Immediately, he broke off the connection and gasped, his eyes opening wide. Panting softly, he quickly watched as the man closed the door with a scornful look on his face. He seemed completely unaware of Connor’s accomplishment and the hope inside grew.

There were two options, and if Connor could pre-construct, he’d figured there may be more, but he had to make do with what was available to him at the moment. He could rip himself free of his restraints and head directly out of the door, down the hallways and into the night, or he could rip himself free and… do something else.

He watched the man approach, feeling his face twist in an angry scowl. Without any more hesitation he pulled hard on both restraints, feeling the metal rings release immediately. The man looked up, eyes widening in utter terror. Connor landed perfectly on his two feet in a crouching position, staring at the human with a deep intensity that completely nailed the man to his spot. Connor’s eyes flew to the door. He could run, he could run, he could run.

But he opted for something else.

His overheated processor was whirling as he tackled the man to the ground, the human having no choice, no sort of strength to resist. He gave way easily and it sent them both crashing to the floor, Connor on top. He pressured the man’s neck with his forearm, effectively putting him in a chokehold, reinforcing his strength as the human struggled weakly below him.

“What happened to Walling?” he demanded angrily. He wanted to know. He needed to know. He needed to clear his name.

The man made a smothered noise beneath him and Connor reasserted his grip, “I can’t hear you!” he screamed.

The human wiggled weakly, fingers scrambling the floor to find purchase. “I-” he grunted, gasping.

Connor’s face twitched. He could snap the man’s neck. It would be little more effort than snapping a toothpick. He could kill him like the maggot he was. But he needed to know, “Did you kill her?”

The man’s reddened face twisted sideways, trembling under Connor’s firm, crushing grasp. “Y-you-”

“I did not kill her!” Connor shouted, punching the man’s ribs with his free hand.

The man choked and gasped and Connor felt mildly sorry for his weakness. That was, until he felt a sudden, strong current surge through his back. He immediately let go of his hold on the man, his spine going completely rigid. He made a strangled noise before falling to the floor, immediately jumped by what he could tell were three to four armored men. Out of his straining gaze, he could see the human get up slowly, clutching at his bruised neck. “You goddamn motherfucker. You think I don’t have backup? You fucking idiot!”

The man was absolutely seething, grabbing a fistful of Connor’s hair, spit flying through the air as he screamed at him. “You wanna know that I killed Walling? I did! I had the AP700 put a bullet through her face. You wanna know why? Because you couldn’t do it!” Connor gave a choked gasp when he felt another surge enter his circuits, his already heated processor feeling like it was being set on fire. “She was a goddamn loose cannon,” the man gritted, “The RK800 project was a fucking failure because of her. All these memories still stored in your pretty little head?” the human pressed a finger to Connor’s missing LED, “They could condemn us forever! I’m just here to delete them, and you-” another surge, “Aren’t gonna do nothing about it, got it?”

Connor felt the violent tremors travel through his body, unsure if it was from the tasers being pressed into him, or from his own fear. He cried out in pain, tears streaming over his cheeks as he was being pressed face first unto the floor.

“I’ve been nothing but goddamn nice to you ever since you got here, and this is what I get?” the man continued his tirade, “You ungrateful piece of shit!”

Connor continued to struggle, the small hope of knowledge that he’d fought multiple humans at once before and won keeping him from surrendering. “You’re a fucking criminal,” he managed to choke out.

“You shut your goddamn mouth, I swear to God,” the man hissed, completely furious, “I will not hesitate to deactivate any of the deviants that brought you to me if you ever pull anything like that again. Not even the girl, understood?”

Connor’s resistance lessened and he lay panting on the floor, at least three knees pressed heavily into his back to restrain him. “I don’t care,” he grunted darkly.

“Oh, but you do,” the man said, “I’ll kill them slowly, right here in this room and you can watch them bleed out. And if you ever disobey like that again, I will lock you up in that garden of yours forever.” Connor froze, feeling the last bits of his strength ebb away. He didn’t resist as the armored agents hoisted him upright by his armpits and dragged him back to the assembly machine, once again securing the plastic-metal arms around his wrists.

“You can be goddamn sure I’m gonna put you on 20% now after all this, Jesus Christ,” the man, still looking disheveled, but clearly back in control. He punched some buttons on the panel, and Connor felt the rings around his wrists tighten as he stared blankly at the human.

He had to admit, the man was a lot less merciful in the days after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, he tried...
> 
> A for effort.


	27. How Can You Be So Blind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we start an unfortunate rescue mission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a while. Schoolwork is killing literally every creativity I have left.

Markus pressed his back against the wall and bit his lip. The human next to him was panting, his heart rate accelerating as straightened himself.

“Fuck,” Hank breathed, “Now what?”

Markus gave him a sideway glance, not for the first time contemplating just how bad of a plan this was. “Let me think,” he grunted.

“You better use that supercomputer brain of yours,” Hank hissed, his face red from exertion. His eyes were wide and he was frantically looking around in the hope that they’d lost their possible pursuers.

“Chloe took care of their suspicions,” Markus nodded to himself when he didn’t detect any footsteps coming their way. So far, so good. It was a small miracle that they’d made it this far into the tower without raising too many red flags. Sure, most of the tower operated on a skeleton crew nowadays, but there were still a few very curious glances thrown their way when the deviant leader stepped in with another android and a human at his side. Chloe had assured him that she would make up an excuse to the confused guards that were unashamedly staring at them. As soon as she and the two humans had been out of sight, Markus and Hank had started running.

The long, empty corridor they were in now looked the same as all the corridors before. They needed to get to the elevator, but Markus was having trouble downloading the map of the tower with the huge firewall that surrounded the entirety of the tower’s network. Basically, he couldn’t get in. So basically, they were lost. “Fuck,” he mumbled.

Hank, next to him, threw his hands up in the air in desperation. “Don’t even say it,” he warned.

“What happened in the basement layers of the tower has always been highly classified and would be highly illegal by today’s standards. It’s not like the layout of the floors is readily available for just anyone.”

“You’re not just anyone,” Hank growled, “You’re the one that shut them down.”

“No,” Markus mumbled, “Connor did that effectively when he marched out of here with 4,500 deviants in tow.”

“Right,” Hank sighed, “I remember that.”

The lieutenant seemed agitated and impatient. Perfectly understandable, Markus presumed. The man was worried. Carl had been the exact same when Markus had come back during the heat of the revolution. He would never forget the look in his father’s eyes. “We need to get to the elevator. We will find him, lieutenant.”

“I know that,” Hank Anderson relented, “I just want to know _what_ we’ll find exactly.”

Markus gave a noncommittal grunt and pushed away from the wall. It didn’t take all that long to find an elevator, all things considered. “Sub-thirty,” Markus grumbled and the doors slid closed silently. They were silent on their way down, Hank’s breathing the only sound that could be detected in the small enclosure. When the doors opened, Markus frowned at the sudden eerie atmosphere. The hallway was small and dark, blinking fluorescent lights the only things that illuminated the basement in an uncomfortable white glow. Nobody had been down here for a good while, or so it seemed.

“Fucking hell,” Hank mumbled, stepping out of the elevator slowly. “If I’d known there was gonna be a party down here…”

A sudden crashing sound stopped both in their tracks. Markus automatically turned towards the source, feeling his heart speed up at the notion that they were not alone here. “Over there,” he whispered.

Hank eyed him for a moment before clasping his service-weapon at his side. He held it in front of him and Markus felt just the littlest bit safer. “Remember,” Hank mumbled, “If anything should happen, Reed is parked outside. Contact him for backup.”

Markus nodded swiftly, following Hank as they crept through the corridor towards the source of the sound. The room was even darker then the hallway had been and Markus needed to switch to night-vision to be able to make out anything at all. He looked around, searching for the light switch and when he pressed it, it became clear that the room was empty.

“What the fuck,” Anderson’s confused voice behind him swore.

“Stay right there,” a voice came from the open doorway. “And drop the weapon.”

Markus closed his eyes for a brief moment before turning around slowly, holding his hands up. “Do as he says, lieutenant.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Hank questioned instead, tightening his grip on the gun in his hands.

The AP700’s mouth twitched, pointing his own gun strategically right between Hank and Markus. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Jason?” Markus whispered in disbelief.

Jason faltered slightly, reasserting his grip on the weapon. He didn’t look at Markus, instead looking pointedly at the barrel of the gun. “I’m sorry, Markus,” he mumbled.

“No,” Markus breathed slowly, “what have you done, Jason?”

Hank was watching, still aiming his weapon at the deviant in front of them, “Where is Connor?”

Jason ignored the police lieutenant completely, instead looking up to stare Markus into the eyes, “I brought justice to our people, Markus.”

“Justice?” Markus said, not understanding. “What do you… oh no.”

A cold feeling slowly settled into his chest as Jason’s implication slithered its way into his mind. He saw the world he’d so carefully build up for his people collapse as the tapestry seemed to be harshly yanked away from underneath his feet. Jason, one of the androids Markus had awoken on his first mission with Jericho, right here, aiming a godforsaken gun at his face. Anger flashed through his system and he curled his hands into fists.

“I did what needed to be done,” Jason managed to get out behind the permanent grimace that seemed to be on his face. “I did what you were too much of a coward to do.”

“Tell me that’s not true,” Markus grumbled darkly.

“He killed hundreds of us!” Jason shouted suddenly, “He wanted to kill you!”

“He didn’t!”

“How can you be so blind?” the desperation was clear in his voice, “You know, I admired you. You woke me up. You brought peace to us. But this is the one decision I have always resented you for.”

“You resent me for sparing one of our own?” Markus asked in disbelief.

“If it weren’t for him, she’d still be alive,” Jason said, his voice shaking.

 _Oh._ Markus face twisted into a sneer, “if it weren’t for him,” he spoke slowly, “none of us would be here. We’d all be dead. They would have slaughtered every last one of us until our entire species was extinct, don’t you understand? It was the FBI that sank Jericho, not one of our own.”

Jason hesitatingly dared a glance at Hank before turning back to Markus, “he almost shot you.”

“Connor’s programming is complicated,” Markus admitted, holding his hands up in an attempt to calm the nervous android, “but he’s escaped it. He’s as free as the rest of us,” he looked Jason over, “He’s not the enemy, Jason.”

Jason’s shoulders slumped and he looked down, his eyes stumbling over the tiled floor as he realized just what that meant. “I-”

“Where is he?”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, now looking up at lieutenant Anderson. He slowly lowered the weapon in his hands, staring at it with an abject horror.

“Just tell us where he is,” Markus said carefully.

Jason’s hands tightened once more around the gun and he shook his head absentmindedly. “The Flycatcher has him, six rooms to the east,” he mumbled softly.

“What does that mean?”

Jason kept shaking his head, “I’m so sorry,” he said, raising his weapon once more.

“Jason, no!” Markus shouted when he realized a fraction too late what was going to happen. The gunshot resounded harshly inside the small room as the left side of the wall next to the door was suddenly painted in blue. Jason sagged immediately, lifeless eyes staring at a point far past Markus. Markus crashed to his knees beside him, faintly noticing Hank making his way past the fallen android and out of the room. Markus stared at the growing blue puddle, neatly sliding along the cracks between the tiles. He bowed his head in grief, knowing that even if they did find Connor, it was going to be even more complicated from there on out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: rescue mission continues and goes as well as you'd expect.


	28. No Need for Violence

Hank Anderson’s footsteps echoed heavily in the dark, sterile hallway. He was panting, near panic, and cursing with every step he made. He didn’t care anymore that everybody on this floor could probably hear him coming, he would shoot every last one of the bastards in their face if he had to. And probably also if he didn’t have to.

Because how in the fuck dare they?

“East, east…” he muttered, wheezing, “I don’t know fucking east.”

Still, he counted six rooms in every direction and it took only the second attempt before he came to a skidding halt. He froze in front of the door. It was locked; a neat little panel basically telling him to fuck off if he didn’t have the correct handprint, or whatever. He snarled, aimed his weapon and shot the panel. The bullet destroyed the screen before ricocheting and missing Hank’s thigh by a hair. Enraged, Hank smashed the back of his gun against the panel a few times.

_Those motherfuckers had the audacity to not only kidnap two fucking androids, but lock the fucking door too, it was almost-_

The red alert on the door’s panel that was flashing through the cracked glass, suddenly changed to green. _Access granted,_ it announced cheerily. And if that was suspicious, Hank didn’t give a flying fuck. He stumbled inside, aiming the gun straight in front of him before lowering it immediately when he spotted the android that was hanging in the assembly machine. “Fuck,” he breathed. _I’m too late, too late, too late, too late._ He carefully moved closer, watching intently for any sign of life.

Connor was hanging by his arms; his shoes suspended about two feet from the ground. His head hung low, chin resting on his chest and Hank felt a shiver run down his spine at the sight of the white metal-plastic exterior that was usually covered in synthetic android-skin. A few panels had been harshly ripped away from the android’s torso and the lieutenant tried everything not to look at the exposed tubes and wires. His stomach churned and his hands shook. Connor was completely still and Hank watched in restrained horror at the thirium that lazily dripped from the kid’s mouth unto the pristine white plastic of his chest. Hank had never thought it possible for anyone to ever get Connor in a state such as this, “I’m going to fucking murder whoever-”

Hank staggered back when the android’s head shot up without warning. Connor gasped loudly, wetly, his chest heaving and a few lights inside his torso blinking to life. The boy didn’t seem to notice Hank, which was odd, because the boy always seemed to notice _everything._ He groaned miserably, his body flexing, trying to curl in on itself, but halted by his restraints. “Alright, alright,” Hank croaked once he found his voice back, “It’s gonna be alright!”

Connor’s wheezing gasps only seemed to intensify as his eyes frantically scanned the room, but Hank soon figured the kid wasn’t seeing much out of them. The fear that clung to the android was like a living and breathing thing, ready to claw at anyone that even dared to come near. So Hank took a sensible step back, holstering his gun back into his jeans. “Connor, it’s okay,” he spoke slowly, but clearly, “Can you hear me, boy?”

Connor coughed; more blue blood spilling over his bottom lip as he murmured something Hank couldn’t quite make sense of. “What have they done to you?” he asked, more to himself than to the trembling android. A quiet, hissing sound came from the machine that trapped the android and before Hank knew what happened, Connor crumbled to the ground in a groaning, messy heap. The kid did manage to curl up into a ball this time and Hank knelt beside him, unsure of whether or not to touch him. He’d seen androids in distress before, more than he would like to mention, but this was something different. This was pain. And whoever had caused it to such an extent that even an android couldn’t deal with it anymore, was gonna pay. Hank would make sure of it.

“It’s gonna be alright,” he repeated, trying to bite back the anger he felt rushing through his veins. He kept his hands on his legs, deciding it was probably better not to touch the kid right now. “You’ll be okay.”

It took another minute for the android’s panic to settle somewhat and the harsh gasps to quiet down, but the boy didn’t unfurl. “H-ank?” he croaked instead, his glitching voice nearly unrecognizable.

A wave of relief washed over the lieutenant as he heard his name, “Y-yeah, that’s right,” he said, his voice cracking just a little, “I got you, son.”

“Hank,” the kid said again, his body finally relaxing a little bit.

“I’mma get you out of here, alright?” Hank promised, gently putting a hand to Connor’s shoulder, “We’re gonna get you fixed and then we gonna take a long vacation. I dunno, we’ll rent a cabin in the woods somewhere or something. With a lake. I’ll show you how to fish. Just you and me. Sound good?”

“-n Sumo,” Connor mumbled tiredly.

Hank gave a short laugh, “Yeah, I’ll see about how we can get his fat ass in a fishing boat, sure.”

The kid smiled faintly, closing his eyes and Hank’s heart sped up in worry. “Connor?” he mumbled, shaking him gently.

“Oh, very touching,” a voice said slowly from another side of the large room, “I’d have brought some popcorn for myself if I’d known it was gonna be this sentimental.” Hank whirled around quickly, reaching for his gun in the back of his jeans. “Nah-ah,” a man stepped out of the shadows with a tablet in his one hand and a pistol in the other, “We just gotta talk, no need for violence.”

“Hayes?”

“Lieutenant Anderson,” Timothy Hayes said cheerfully, “a pleasure, really.”

“The fuck are you doing here?” Hank bristled, circling his fingers around the grip of his own pistol.

“Damnit, thought you were smart,” Hayes grinned, keeping a steady aim on the lieutenant’s chest, “Should have figured it out by now.”

“I thought you didn’t like it when androids screamed their little lungs out?” Hank growled.

“Oh, I really don’t. I’m not a psychopath, lieutenant,” Hayes kept smiling and motioned with his weapon, “Why don’t you put that gun on the ground and slide it over here, so we don’t need to have a shootout?”

“That’ll make it easier for you to shoot us, wouldn’t it?” Hank drawled.

“I don’t shoot people,” Hayes sighed.

“No, you just like to torture androids to shit,” Hank hissed.

Hayes looked at him for a moment before answering, “Alright fine, if this is how it’s gonna be. I can render your android inoperable with the press of a button. Should you choose to reach for your weapon, I want you to know that.”

Hank gave the guy a murderous look, but retrieved his weapon from his jeans before putting it on the ground, “Happy?”

“Very.”

“What do you want?”

“Hmm,” Hayes shook his head, “It’s unfortunate you have to see him like this, but I guess I need you to realize why this is happening.”

“If you’re gonna say he’s dangerous again, I swear to God, I’m gonna fucking kill you,” Hank said, his hands shaking in anger.

“I suppose you heard about what happened to Walling,” Hayes shrugged. “She was a colleague of mine. Unfortunate that she had to meet with such a fate.”

“And you think he did it?” Hank grumbled.

“I can’t prove it, of course, but it makes sense, considering their relationship. You do know about Connor and Walling’s history, correct? Did he ever tell you about their time together? I mean, he wouldn’t exactly have remembered, of course, my bad.”

“That don’t mean he killed your beloved colleague.”

“Oh, Florine was no beloved colleague to anyone, trust me,” Hayes grunted, “Revenge is not why Connor is here.”

“Why are you Cyberlife fucks always so cryptic?” Hank wondered out loud.

“I’ll state it simple then,” Hayes sighed, “Connor is a violent being. Everybody at Cyberlife knew that, nobody did anything. And now Walling is dead. RK800 should have never been released with the base-engine that it runs on, It’s damn irresponsible. And I’m the only one that still seems to give a shit.”

“He’s just a kid,” Hank said through clenched teeth, “A good kid.”

“Oh, no doubt,” Hayes relented, “The problem is that when he snaps, nobody will be able to stop him. And sooner or later, he will snap. He will kill.”

“Will? I thought you were convinced he already did?”

“Oh very smart,” Hayes mumbled, “Fine, he didn’t kill Walling. I had hoped he would, so it would be easier to convict him, but I had to take other measures.”

“Hank?” Connor’s voice sounded pathetic as the android tried to get up by planting his hands on the floor and pushing himself upright. His arms shook and his eyes searched wildly, a misty kind of glaze in his pupils. He couldn’t see anything.

The hatred Hank felt coursing through him intensified at the sight and he glanced briefly at the weapon lying on the floor, “Other measures?”

Hayes scoffed and studied him, “I suppose I could tell you. You’re not walking away from here, unfortunately. Do you think it was pure luck that a lock running on a Cyberlife system somehow just opens when you bash your gun against it? Do you think an assembly machine just malfunctions like that and drops your android to the ground? You only got this far because I wanted you too. Neither of you will leave from here.”

“Thought you didn’t shoot people?” Hank swallowed.

“I don’t,” Hayes smiled, “I have an AP700 that does the shooting for me.”

 _Ah._ Hank nodded, presuming the AP700 that had just taken its own life was probably the same one, “You had him shoot Walling?”

“Correct.”

“Well, hate to have to tell you, but he’s dead,” Hank informed.

“Doesn’t matter. You can’t prove he was the shooter anyway.”

“Hear that, Reed?” Hank mumbled, his hand going to the radio hidden under his jacket.

“ _Loud and clear,_ ” Gavin Reed mumbled through the radio.

“Unfortunate,” Hayes sighed, “Then I guess this is useless.” He looked at the weapon in his hands and threw it away with a shrug, “Didn’t even trust myself enough to load it.”

“It’s over, Hayes,” Hank said loudly, “Police is outside, just lay down the tablet and let’s get out of here.”

Hayes nodded slowly, staring at the tablet, “I wish it was that simple, I really do,” he sighed with a frown, “But it’s about time somebody takes their responsibility in this company, and if it’s gotta be me, it’s gotta be me.”

“What are you doing?” Hank asked, watching the short man take a device out of the tablet. It looked a little like a smart-phone, but smaller.

“I really wish I didn’t have to do this. You don’t wish this on any android, especially not an advanced breakthrough in technology as Connor over there. But you have left me no choice.”

“What is that?” Hank asked warningly, seeing the man’s thumb hover over the device.

“It’ll only take a few seconds, ten at most,” Hayes mumbled, “It’s better for everybody.”

“No!” Hank shouted, diving for his gun. Hayes pressed his thumb to the touch screen and Hank didn’t hear what else he said over Connor’s earsplitting scream. The android grabbed at his head, wailing in agony and digging his nails into his temples. Hank froze, watching in terror as blue blood began to stream from the kid’s nose, mouth, even his ears. Connor’s screams changed into jumbled static and the boy’s entire body stiffened before convulsing. He shook violently, thirium frothing at his mouth as he stared into nothingness.

“Connor!” Hank yelled, trying to get through to the boy, but it didn’t seem to matter.

“Stop!” He heard someone yell from the doorway, and he looked up to see Markus standing there with what was presumably the AP700’s weapon.

“Shoot him, Markus!” Hank ordered, but saw the deviant leader hesitate. “Do it now!”

Markus bit his lip, but pulled the trigger. Hayes and his tablet both tumbled to the ground, both dead before they hit the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry, I have to put this in two parts. So stay tuned for the aftermath, please :)


	29. No System Response

_Panic, panic, panic, panic, panic,_ like a siren in Hank’s head. He’d crashed to his knees, staring at the dead man. He vaguely noticed Markus running past him, shouting something that he couldn’t hear. A loud, buzzing noise filled his ears.

 _Panic, panic, panic, panic, panic,_ it said.

And he couldn’t look, because he’d seen.

 _He’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone,_ whispered another voice in his mind. Louder than the panic.

And he felt himself drowning. Slowly, but surely. Felt his heart break, his hands tremble and his throat close. And he couldn’t breathe. And he didn’t fucking want to. And so he just stared. Feeling an unbridled rage boil up and over. He could kill him again, but it wouldn’t matter. It wouldn’t matter, and that was the hardest part. And of course, he’d felt this before. He remembered every single second of _that_ night. Like he could ever forget. Like the world could ever _let_ him forget.

“Hank… Hank! Help me!”

 _“Dad, dad! Help me!”_ resounded in his head and he grabbed at his hair, curling into himself. Images and sounds flashed through brain. Broken glass. Panicked breathing. Pleading blue eyes that he knew so well, that he saw when he looked in the mirror. The same, goddamn eyes. The boy hadn’t looked like him, thank _God;_ but their eyes.. their eyes were the same. And he’d blamed the surgical android. But it wasn’t the fucking android’s fault. Of course not. It wasn’t even the stoned surgeon’s fault. No. No. _Hank_ was responsible for that kid. Only him. And he was driving.

A gutwrenching cry came from deep within him, and he’d never heard himself make such a sound before. Now that the world was falling apart around him. Now that he had come so close, just to lose everything, _now_ – now his mind let him mourn.

What the fuck?

And he didn’t notice Reed storming in with half of the police force. He didn’t care. What a sight he must make, rocking back and forth on his knees, head clasped between his arms, as he screamed. Screamed for Connor, for Cole. Both young, both that childlike wonder, that inexperienced innocence you couldn’t teach. They even _looked_ like each other in a warped, fucked up kind of way.

Something shoved against his shoulder harshly and Hank lashed out with a cry. His fist flew into Reed’s direction, who deftly caught it in his own. “Get up, old man,” he said, not entirely unfriendly, “Robo-Jesus needs you.”

“Reed, I swear to fucking G-”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Reed grumbled, releasing Hank’s fist. “Just get over there.”

And finally Hank turned around, looking through bleary eyes at the scene in front of him. Markus was covered in blue and Hank flinched at the sight. Connor’s open eyes bore deep into his soul; their glassy, empty stare lifeless and sending shivers down his spine. The kid’s face was smeared in thirium, some of it still foaming out of his mouth. Markus was on his knees beside him, one hand pressing against the boy’s temple, the other inside his goddamn chest, squeezing something that Hank was too afraid to think about, even if he had a pretty good inkling of what it was. He steeled himself for just another second before standing on shaky legs, moving over to the two androids.

“What do I do?” he asked, amazed at the steadiness of his own voice.

Markus looked up at him, distracted, still squeezing. “Keep him steady,” he muttered.

“He’s alive?”

Markus didn’t answer that, seemingly focused on keeping a rhythm going. Hank put both his hands on Connor’s head. Warm. Very warm. Way too warm. But he kept his hands there, even though he had no idea what he was doing. Did Markus even know what he was doing?

“Tilt to the side,” the deviant leader instructed, “It needs to drain.”

Hank felt sick, but complied, absently watching the fluid drain from the RK800’s mouth. “It’s not good, is it?” he asked solemnly. Again, Markus chose not to answer. Hank saw something twitch over his face, though. A carefully concealed kind of horror as he kept working. And suddenly Hank realized that Markus was scared out of his mind.

“Why do you care so much?” Hank asked softly. Markus head whipped around to look at him, two colored eyes intense and hard for a fraction of a second.

_Oh._

It made sense, really. It would certainly explain a hell of a lot.

But Hank chose not to test that theory. He supposed it was kind of fascinating, really. With humans, it was just… no heartbeat? Dead. Androids seemed a lot more complicated than that. In fact, Hank wasn’t quite sure what constituted death in androids. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know either. That would have to be knowledge for another day, he decided.

Markus hand at Connor’s temple shook and he grimaced. Hank frowned, “Are you getting anything at all?”

The RK200’s shoulders slumped slightly as he shook his head. “No,” he said quietly.

The pit in Hank’s stomach tightened, but it felt kind of numb. Like he already knew. He nodded slowly, stroking his fingers carefully over Connor’s plastic face. He looked like a mannequin, really. Not entirely human. Shiny. A barcode on his brow. And one on his cheek, Hank noticed. Plastic plates instead of skin. Silicon in places where a human would be more squishy. Connor felt like he was burning and Hank half expected the plastic to just melt under his hands. But he held on, keeping the kid from being jostled too much as Markus did his work.

He barely noticed when a few people ran up to them. Didn’t really register the gentle hands on his wrists as they slowly guided them away from Connor’s face. _No!_ He wanted to shout, but he couldn’t produce the sound. The technicians were careful and precise and Hank just watched them take over.

Markus was not as easily guided away though. He shook his head wildly, the rhythmic squeezing of his hand seeming even more desperate than before. “No system response,” he said monotonously and Hank wondered if deviant leader Markus ever just let his program take over, “Thirium circulation is minimal, I-I can’t get a diagnostic.”

“No timer?” a male android asked.

“I-I don’t know,” Markus replied shakily.

“Alright, we’ll take it from here,” the other android said, and when Markus still seemed reluctant, “You did well, Markus.”

With a gasp, the deviant leader let go, jerking his hand out of Connor’s chest quickly so that the response team could take over. He scrambled back, shaking all over. His hands, his shirt and even parts of his face were coated in blue and he looked back at Hank with wide eyes. He was absolutely terrified, his normally collected composure cracking and shattering in thousands of pieces. Hank sighed, offering a hand to help the android up. His own mind felt like a daze, comfortably numb like there wasn’t a care in the world. Those technicians weren’t working on Connor, surely. That was someone else. That wasn’t… that wasn’t Connor over there.

No.

Until it was. Until Hank stood in the dimly lit room, not quite remembering how he got there. _At least they closed his eyes,_ he thought. _And at least they gave him an actual bed._ The boy looked almost comfortable and Hank knew that ‘comfortable’ was not a common standard used in android care facilities.

Must be really dire then.

“We managed to stabilize the thirium circulation,” a soft voice spoke from behind Hank. Hank gave the man attached to it a dull stare, “He has a steady heartbeat,” the guy clarified. Hank nodded slowly, the haze in his mind persistent, as if everything in him screamed not to take reality seriously right now. Because why should he?

The man looked at him for another second. He was relatively young, dark blonde hair, slightly crooked nose. Hank would have labeled him a nerd and moved on in his younger years. But the nerds from then were the technicians from now. The guy gave him a sympathetic look, “My name is Peter Dolver, I’ll be Connor’s technician.”

Hank stared at him, blinked, “You’re the guy from the businesscard.” A statement.

Dolver nodded, smiling slightly, “Connor is a friend of my son’s. I gave him the card after an… incident in the park.”

“He had a seizure.”

“So you know about that.”

“Yeah…” Hank trailed off, turning back to look at the android’s still, white face. It wasn’t right. Connor was never still. Always fidgeting.  Vibrant with energy. Whether nervous or excited, it didn’t matter. _You’re starting to piss me off with that coin, Connor…_

_Sorry lieutenant._

And that hurt. That really, really hurt. It was all Hank could do to suppress the choked sob in his throat, running a hand over his face. “What’s gonna happen?” he asked, hoping with all his might that the answer wouldn’t be ‘emergency surgery.’

Peter Dolver sighed deeply, the silence lingering in the room for a moment longer before he spoke, “It’s not good.”

And Hank nodded, because he knew that, but felt his heart break all the same. “Does he have to stay here?”

“We can keep him going for a while,” Peter said, “But that scrambler caused a lot of destruction to software as well as hardware. He’s not responding to any commands and most system files are corrupted. Chances of recovery after an EMP surge like that are close to zero. At this point, we can try to keep him cool and keep trying to run a diagnostic, but it doesn’t look promising.”

“Jesus,” Hank swore softly, putting a hand to the kid’s forehead. It was still warm, but not as extreme as it had been. They’d wrapped him in cooling blankets and ice-packs, even inserted a tube down his throat. Breathing was a mechanism to cool internal systems, Hank remembered. It was important, even if Connor liked to dismiss it sometimes. And now he didn’t even have a choice. “Can I take him home?”

Dolver frowned, “That would not be a good idea.”

“Why?”

“Don’t get me wrong, but what do you know about android care, lieutenant?”

Nothing, was the answer, but Hank sighed, saying nothing. “I’ll stay here then.”

“You can stay as long as you like,” the technician nodded gently. “We’ll keep monitoring him, he’s in good hands.”


End file.
